Unexpected Success
by atlantide
Summary: That Shinotsuka Miho, Class 10-A, is not the girl Kyouya expects is a novelty in of itself; when is Kyouya ever surprised? But it doesn't matter much. How important can one girl--one who's not even a customer--be? OC X Kyouya, with a healthy dose of Hosts
1. Chapter 1

So...Ouran High School Host Club is one of my favorite manga (which is not saying much, I guess, since I haven't really read that many). But I love the interaction of the host club members--they're all so much fun--and the strange things they end up doing make me laugh all the time. Of course, my favorite is Kyouya (we share the same birthday! Hahaha, sneaky Scorpios...) and I just can't find myself shipping HaruhiXKyouya because 1) I'd be way too jealous and 2) they don't really match, not like Haruhi and XXXXX do (I have my own name to fit that blank, but at the risk of getting flamed by very opinionated fangirls I'll refrain from sharing it and just let you fill it in yourself...everyone's happier that way I think). But of course that doesn't mean that Kyouya's alllll hands off in the realm of love...I had to give it a try. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint...I rather like what's going on. :) As always, please review! Any critiques are always appreciated, and very helpful, even if it's just encouragement for me to keep writing.

Oh right, and a few other things. I've read the manga and watched the anime and like both, so I may refer to events that happen in either or both (except for that whole Eclair fiasco because I can't for the life of me find any _merit_ in it). However, I'm going to borrow the author's device and completely ignore the passage of time until now; that is, no time has passed yet - so all of the history that the Host Club has (in the manga/anime) is still true, but Haruhi's still a freshman, Kyouya and Tamaki are still juniors, etc.

Lastly, DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ouran High Host Club.

**Prologue**

Moving through the well-stocked shelves, Kyouya caught a glimpse of someone he thought he knew, and was startled; a commoner bookstore was the last place he would've expected to see a girl like Shinotsuka Miho, Ouran High School student, Class 10-A. But then, she would probably think the same thing about him, if she saw him. He shrugged, loathe to pique anyone's curiosity, and moved away. He turned into another aisle, eying the titles with interest, when somebody quite literally bumped into him.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, please excuse me," Miho apologized, ducking her head in embarrassment.

"Don't think of it," Kyouya replied automatically, and then they recognized each other and blinked. He glanced around; he didn't see anyone accompanying her—no friends, no parents (of course; he could not imagine either of the Shinotsukas in such a place as this) and no appointed guardian. Had something gone amiss? Had she been stranded, or lost?

"Can I help you? Call you a car, or something?" he asked, with a faint smile. She quickly shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you. I'm sorry again," she said, and immediately strode away; Kyouya shrugged and turned back to his own amusements, not giving the incident another thought—until much later, when he had occasion to review it with interest.

**Chapter One**

Miho cursed herself for her carelessness on the bus ride back to her house. She knew of Ootori Kyouya by reputation only; he was a year older than her and though they had both attended Ouran Academy from the very beginning, she had never had occasion to speak to him. She supposed if she had been the enthusiastically dutiful daughter she should have been, she would have had invented opportunities to get to know him, all for the purpose of proper social networking, but she really couldn't be bothered. Now though, she regretted her lack of knowledge of him, if only because she didn't know if he would make an issue of seeing her at a regular commoner mall. If he had known that she had snuck out of the mansion to do it—as she regularly did—that would surely have driven his curiosity even further than it probably already had. She sighed.

Then another thought occurred to her. What had _he_ been doing there? Even if by some miraculous reason he had needed something from such a place, surely even the third son of the Ootori family could have had someone sent out for it—or simply have it ordered and delivered in an instant. She could not imagine what would drive him to the bookstore in that mall—it wasn't even the best one available to _commoners_. She chose it merely for its location: the large mall was always crowded, and not some desolate place in the middle of nowhere; also because of the constant traffic, no one seemed to pay her a moment's attention. She wondered; was it possible that he went there for the same reasons? She made an indelicate sound. She very much doubted it. No, more probably it was the result of something unpredicted, some detour or delay, and he had only sought to alleviate his boredom as his people fixed something or brought something or waited for something…it was always so. With that decided and cleared away, she gave it no more thought. At least, not until she got home.

Her father was waiting for her in the sitting room closest to her own apartments, which surprised her. Though he had been a frequent enough presence in her life—and even a welcome one, for the most part—when she had been younger, in recent years he was hardly home, a result of her grandfather's death and his promotion to CEO of their company, a small chain of hospitals that was nevertheless a fairly powerful presence in the country. He rarely sought her out now, though he always brought her a gift when he did. She smiled perfunctorily at him, hoping that he had not been waiting long.

"Father. How are you?"

"Well enough. Sneaking out again?" he asked mildly. She only grinned at him, expecting his usual tolerant smile in return. This time, however, he merely gave a slight shake of his head, and indicated that she take a seat on the sofa before him. She obeyed, apprehension tightening her posture.

"I have something for you," he said, to begin, and handed her something wrapped in delicate paper. She accepted it graciously, though not really in the least bit eager—if ever she had a material desire, it was usually fulfilled before she had time to voice it, or sometimes, even to realize it—and slid a hand under the overlapping layer of wrapping to slit the paper open, knowing he expected it. The two halves fell away to reveal a mass of emerald green silk, and a small jewelry box. She gave him a wry smile.

"More jewelry, Daddy? Really." She picked up the box and opened it, to find a single thick band of what was probably white gold (18k, of course, and palladium alloy, not nickel) crisscrossed with an odd, but somehow pleasing, design of circles and loops. She frowned; she _liked _it, but it wasn't the sort of thing he usually bought, and she couldn't really imagine him picking it out.

Without saying anything, but making sure her expression was smooth and pleased, she set the ring box down on the lacquered table in front of her and shook out the dress in her lap. It was also beautiful and elegant, a little different from anything she'd normally have occasion to wear, but it suited her tastes.

"Your mother picked that out," her father said. "She thought you'd like it. I told her I'd bring it back to you."

"Ah." Her mother was currently on business in South Korea. Her father had stopped there on his way back from a meeting in Germany. "It's lovely."

"And the ring?"

"Also lovely. Did she pick that out too?"

"No."

She smiled. "Then you bought it?"

"No." Her father's expression was curiously guarded, and she looked at him steadily, waiting for him to explain. He obliged her.

"The ring was sent," he said. She raised a single fine eyebrow inquiringly.

"You know that we have been going through a tight spot," her father said, and she frowned slightly at the _non sequitur_ of it, but nodded.

"Yes. You and mother have been trying to form new partnerships to keep us a major player in these business games you play."

Her bold responses normally earned her a smile; this time, however, even that tried and true antic failed. Her father's expression turned grim.

"The situation was perhaps a bit darker than that, Miho. But you obviously get the gist of it." He paused, as if trying to formulate his next sentences completely before starting to voice them. "But a solution has been found."

"Ah." Miho nodded. "This is a gift from the family of our new ally, then? A gesture of goodwill?"

Her father's eyes tightened—she was much closer to the truth than she realized.

"We have reached an agreement with the Ootori family," he said slowly; Miho's eyes narrowed ever so slightly upon hearing the Ootori name—she could not help but remember her earlier encounter with the third Ootori son. Her father did not notice.

"The nature of our agreement…well. The nature of our new relationship is such that it must be cemented by a very tight bond; there are risks enough for both sides that we must both have some sort of hold in the matter, though I will not hesitate to admit that the Ootoris must always come out on top; we are merely a bit player, compared to their presence in the field. Nevertheless, their support is a big help to us now, and it will be even bigger when it is made public."

Miho listened silently, waiting for her father to come to the point.

"We have not made any explicit business deals, however," he continued. Perplexity creased her brow: what was he talking about? "We have merely concluded that the union of our families would do some good—that the presentation of our linked names to the business world, would grant both of us a legion of advantages."

He fell silent; his daughter froze. Her mind rapidly worked through what she knew of the Ootori family; three sons, one daughter. The daughter—Fuyumi, was it?—was already married, no doubt to the son of some prominent official/businessman/important somebody or another, but that wasn't important anyway, it was the _sons _she had to consider now, wasn't it?The oldest son was the successor to all the Ootori wealth and power—surely too important to waste on someone like _her_. The second son was…in medical school? At least ten years older than herself, then. Not an unheard of age gap, but not entirely plausible either, considering he was only slightly less important than his elder brother in the grand framework of the Ootori family—_and_ the fact that there was a third son, much closer to her in age, and much less important. After all, what possible moment of caprice would incite Yoshio Ootori to name his third son the heir?

"You're too clever to remain in the dark," her father murmured heavily, almost regretfully. She turned intent eyes back to him.

"You've arranged a marriage between our families." Her voice was taut, as caustic as she dared. "Aren't we a little young?"

"Don't be absurd," her father said sharply. "You know we wouldn't dream of you marrying until you at least finished college." She only looked at him; he dropped his gaze, unable to be the stern president, the harsh businessman or the ruthless executive with his only daughter. His son, he may have managed it with, but not Miho. He sighed. "But you are correct. We have finalized the terms of the engagement."

"The announcement of the engagement will be just as effective to your ends than the actual marriage, for the moment, anyway," Miho agreed, her voice deceptively bland.

"There wasn't time to inform you of the proceedings," her father said, sensing the hidden rebuke nonetheless. "It was never a sure thing until the end; I didn't want to get ahead of ourselves."

"Of course not." Her eyes, accusing, fell on the open ring box.

"This arrangement benefits everyone involved," her father said, regaining his resolve.

"And Kyouya and I are just casualties of war," she said coolly. He frowned.

"Don't be melodramatic," he admonished. A stone settled to the bottom of her stomach. It _was_ Kyouya, then. She thought of him in the bookstore again. Had he known?

"Everyone born into a family like theirs and ours knows that there are responsibilities to be borne," her father continued. "Kyouya is a good son; he will do what his father requires."

Miho sensed the hidden rebuke in _that_, too.

"Such contrast against my own flagrant disobedience," she drawled. Her father shook his head.

"Enough, Miho. I am sorry; you know I am sorry. But your marriage being arranged and decided for you was always an inevitable thing, it's just that you have the facts before you now. At least it is Kyouya. He is a striking young man, your mother says, and his academic reputation is known even amongst other families. Isn't that something to take pride in? Such a husband? He will never be inferior to you; that should satisfy you, at least."

But am I to be inferior to _him_? She wanted to ask, but didn't. She merely nodded, gathering up the dress and the ring she no longer wanted—had not ever wanted, not really. She bowed to her father.

"I will do as you say, of course, Father."

He studied her closed expression closely.

"Is there any reason to object to Ootori Kyouya?" he asked curiously. She shrugged.

"No. It is as you have said. He is the model student and the model son; no doubt he will become the model business man and husband as well. What more could I ask for?" She left off on other adjectives she had long since ascribed to him: unpredictable, ambitious—though not improperly so, she had to admit—, clever…a whole slew, that while not necessarily negative, at least made her wary of him. He was physically attractive, yes, and his cool exterior created another attraction of its own, but she did not altogether trust him. She suppressed a sound of derision. Did she need to? Who said women must trust their husbands? No. Only serve them. Fine. A long moment passed.

"If there's someone else, I'd advise you to get it out of your head now," her father said quietly. "It will save you a lot of trouble, in the end."

She actually laughed.

"There isn't." She thought of Kyouya's cool, enigmatic smile, his unreadable eyes and unfathomable expression. Nor was there ever likely to be, she thought. Not now.

"Whether you choose to get to know him before the engagement banquet is your own affair, of course," her father told her. "I trust you will carry it out in the matter best suited to you." He paused again. "And Miho. I would not go out to the commoner malls for a while. At least until you know if he will mind."

She made no reply to that. Instead, she held up the hand holding the ring box.

"What is this, exactly? An engagement ring? A present?"

Her father made a face.

"It is a 'pair ring;' I'm told it is the custom. I do not know if Kyouya actually has one, or if he will wear one, and I doubt he actually picked it out. Wear it or don't, though of course if he wears one, you should."

"Too bad," she said, getting ready to leave. "I actually liked it."


	2. Chapter 2

So, I couldn't stop writing, and as a result the second chapter is now up—and it's a lot longer than it should be, I'm afraid. I know the story's a little slow moving in the romance department so far, but it's intended to be at least eight or so chapters right now (I have a hard time writing one-shots and shorter stories…I think I get too attached to the characters, or something. Sigh).

As always, reviews are much appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

In the Ootori household, a similar scene had just taken place, though Kyouya had ceded to his fate with considerably more grace than his future bride. It was just as well; his father was not so indulgent as Shinotsuka Gyou, nor so apologetic. It was a verdict already decided and delivered, and Kyouya accepted it, as was his duty. His father gave a nod of approval at his son's quiet acquiescence.

"I don't think this is necessary to say, but if you should change your mind, Kyouya, and go against me in this, I assure you that all of your chances at success would then be destroyed. I hope I am clear."

Kyouya had only bowed in response, and his father, satisfied, left his son to his thoughts. And there were many. He moved to his desk and calmly extracted his all-important _file_, flipping through the entries until he found the one he wanted. _Shinotsuka Miho_. As she had never been a Host Club customer, the information listed wasn't particularly detailed, but it had been enough to go on…until now, of course.

An Ouran student since the beginning of elementary school, Miho had found her way into Class 10-A according to the wealth on her father's side and the—though recently less prosperous—family prestige of her mother's line.

The Shinotsukas owned a small chain of hospitals that despite its relative size figured greatly in the realm of health and medical enterprise. Her grandfather's death about half a decade ago had fixed the business entirely on Miho's father, who ran everything with the mixture of deft precision and intuition that he had inherited. However, the economy being what it was, late circumstances had made the Shinotsukas anxious for more stable power, their own being fairly recently established. He could understand the motivation for the union on both sides, his family's and hers. It would offer the Ootoris even greater influence and control in the field, and it would supply the Shinotsukas with a trump card—something with which they could withstand any attack that would dare to challenge them. He was of course familiar with the power associated with his own family's name and legacy; that was no mystery.

No, the mystery—at least to some extent—was Miho. He had never spoken to her for longer than their brief conversation (if it could even be called that; he rather doubted it) today, though he had always been aware of her presence. Or at least, he had always been aware of the Shinotsuka presence, as he was aware of the children of all the other power players. He had never paid much attention to Miho herself. She ran with a different circle, the children of diplomats and other businessmen, other inhabitants of Class 10-A, though he had never observed a particular closeness between her and the Hitachiin brothers.

Perhaps they were a bit too extravagant for her tastes; his lips quirked as he recalled their latest fiasco in the Host Club, involving a horde of very spare swimwear and an irate Haruhi. And a practically apoplexic Tamaki. His eyes narrowed. Actually, he seemed to remember Tamaki saying something about Miho once or twice—ah! That was it. Apparently she spoke excellent French, and Tamaki, who got homesick every once in a while, enjoyed seeking her out in order to have a conversation filled with _amour_ and _amis_ and _la beaut__é__ du monde _or whatever (Kyouya's own tastes in foreign languages ran to English and German rather than French; it was altogether too elaborate for his tastes, and ever since his acquaintance with Tamaki it somehow made him wince).

Where was he? Oh yes. (He was irritated to find that even when Tamaki wasn't physically present, he still afforded distractions). Kyouya set the file down and leaned back against his bed. Was he surprised by this turn of events? Not entirely. He had always known his marriage would be arranged for him, and though he had not quite expected it to be so sudden—and it had never crossed his mind that Miho was a candidate—he decided that it was altogether just as well. One less variable in his life; just another piece of information. Closing the file, he turned to his homework. There were still other things to be done.

* * *

"My dear, my darling, please: you must let me feed you a bite of this excellent cake," Tamaki purred, gazing deeply into a love-struck freshman girl's eyes. "It is exquisite, as you are."

"It should be, it costs more than a week's groceries," Haruhi muttered under her breath as she walked past. Kyouya looked up from his ever-so-mysterious file with amusement.

"Have _you_ tasted it?" he asked. She blinked, startled that someone had heard her.

"Um…no," she replied.

"Then don't criticize," he advised. "Unless you were offering to pay for it?"

Haruhi fled. Kyouya chuckled softly to himself and resumed writing. Tamaki, who had of course been eavesdropping, called out eagerly, "Haruhi, don't worry, Daddy will feed you too!"

"That was never the problem!" she shot back over her shoulder as she walked hastily away, trying to return to her own customers before she was accused of neglect or something worse.

"_Daddy_ again?" Hikaru said, disgusted, from his place next to his brother at the adjacent table. "_Lord_, I thought we talked about this."

"What?!" Tamaki exclaimed, shocked; Kaoru grinned and fixed his twin with a wicked expression.

"You can be _my_ daddy if you want," he said seductively; the two girls at their table nearly fainted. Haruhi pointedly ignored all of them, as did Kyouya, who had learned long ago not to heed any of them if he wanted to retain his own sanity. The sound of the music room door opening caught his attention, though, and he looked up just in time to see Shinotsuka Miho walk in. He watched her for a moment as she looked around, and when her eyes fell upon him he smiled automatically.

"Welcome. How may we help you?" he asked pleasantly, moving to greet her with his usual well-mannered bow. She gave a slight smile in return, neither obsequious nor coy, simply a returning courtesy. He studied her discreetly, very aware that she was forming her own opinions of him as he did so. She was slim and of average height for a girl of her age—at least half a foot shorter than himself—but she didn't make a fuss out of the fact that she had to look up to meet his eyes. She had a heart-shaped face, with choppily cut long bangs shading her forehead to fall against the sharp angles of her left cheek. The rest of her dark hair was cut fashionably short, curling to her chin and providing an appropriate contrast to her smooth, olive-ocher skin. He conceded that the look suited her.

"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to a table beside them, and pulling out a chair for her. She sat down without any sign of self-consciousness.

"Did you desire the company of a particular host today? Or was there something else we could do for you?"

She smiled warmly at him, though her eyes still retained their distance.

"Just a little conversation with yourself, perhaps, if you're not busy, Ootori-senpai?"

"Of course. Please give me a moment." He strode over to the tea table, retrieved a full set—complete with cake and cookies—and returned, pouring each of them a steaming cup of Earl Grey before seating himself across from her.

"Sugar? Milk?" he asked, ever the gracious host.

"A little milk, please," she replied, holding out her cup. "Thank you."

"Not at all," Kyouya said, smiling at her. He gestured toward the sweets. "Please, help yourself."

She politely declined, and he smiled again. He was, as the official host, well prepared to start a conversation—any sort of conversation—but the ability to listen was also a prized skill. He took a sip of his tea, waiting, with all manner of polite attentiveness. She sipped her own tea, seemingly indifferent to his regard; her every gesture was filled with the easy assurance of one who did not care what he thought. That surprised him a little, though of course none of that seeped into his expression. He was an Ootori son; _everyone _cared what he thought, and the conclusion wasn't vanity, but simply the result of many years' worth of observations.

Miho set her cup down.

"Don't worry," she began, her smile wry. "I haven't suddenly decided to start monopolizing your time."

Kyouya's cool smile never faltered.

"There's nothing wrong with a proper designation," he said, shrugging slightly. "We are happy to serve."

"Doubtless," she replied, still smiling. "And actually, I'm glad to hear it; it has much to do with my reason for coming here today. Though it may sound presumptuous of me to say this, I had realized that if your father is anything like mine, he may have made any manner of suggestions to you regarding the Host Club."

Kyouya raised an eyebrow. His father had indeed hinted that continued participation in the Host Club might be viewed with ill favor by his future bride, but surprisingly enough, Ootori Yoshio had not pressed the issue, and Kyouya had simply made a note of the sentiment.

"I cannot pretend to know whether my concerns are in any way justified," Miho continued, "but I must tell you, I would hope that I would _always _be able to visit you here. Many other girls no doubt share this desire."

Kyouya considered her. Though her voice hit all the right notes of admiration, the expression in her eyes was not that of fatuous idolization. Though her lips promised that she would come back, her eyes promised that she would not.

"My lady is most generous," he said after a moment, his voice carefully neutral.

"No," she replied. "Just practical." She paused. "I'm just trying to be fair. I haven't had much practice with it, though." She turned away then, watching all of the activity going on in the room, though not before he caught a glimpse of a genuine smile. He could not say that he did not understand the gesture; on the contrary, he understood it very well. It was a pure give-and-take. Miho herself was part of no less than two clubs, and though neither of them (the Kendo Club and the Calligraphy Club, he believed) had quite the same…_emphasis_ that the Host Club did, they were all co-ed; if he had wanted to, he could've objected to her participation in them, just as she could object to his continued presence here.

Miho stood, directing her most sunny smile at Kyouya. He stood as well.

"Well, thank you ever so much; that was an absolutely enlightening conversation," she said warmly, turning to leave. He realized that Haruhi, who had finished with her own customers, was watching them curiously; no doubt Miho was aware of the attention.

"We hope to see you here again," Kyouya replied, putting on his customary Host-smile. Tamaki, who was looking to see what _Haruhi_ was looking at, jumped up when he saw Miho, bounding toward her with the enthusiasm of a puppy.

"Mon amie! Ma chérie, qu'est-ce que je peux faire pour vous rendre heureuse, pour vous rendre content? Dites-moi!" he exclaimed. Haruhi, who had come up next to Kyouya, gave him a plaintive look.

"What?"

"He is asking her, in typical Tamaki fashion, to tell him what he can do to make her happy."

"Ah." Haruhi looked resigned. Behind her, dozens of other customers were sitting wide-eyed, giggling over the romance of Tamaki's French.

"Merci, mais non, c'est pas necessaire," Miho replied, laughing and backing away as Tamaki reached for her hand in a valiant attempt to kiss it. "A bientôt, monsieur," she told him, opening the door and slipping out. He gave a melancholy sigh.

"I didn't know Miho was one of your customers," Haruhi remarked to Kyouya. "Which is strange, because I usually notice whenever _Kyouya-senpai_ is actually hosting." She had not thought the other girl was the type to participate in such activities as this, and could not decide whether it changed her opinion of Miho. After a moment, she figured that it didn't—after all, Miho hadn't made herself one of _Tamaki_'_s_ silly fangirls.

Kyouya gave her a sidelong glance.

"If you're trying to make a point, Haruhi, simply say so. Subtlety is not your strong suit."

She flushed.

"I just meant that I've never noticed her here before," she said lamely.

"Probably because she's never been here before," Kyouya replied, with that infuriating calm.

"But it certainly looks like she'll be back," Kaoru said slyly, as the twins sidled into the conversation. Kyouya ignored them, reaching a slender finger to shift his glasses up higher.

"Have you talked to her before, Kyou-chan?" Honey asked, sitting atop Mori's shoulders.

"Not that I can recall," Kyouya replied, "but that's hardly a requirement to a girl when she picks her host."

"True," Honey allowed, resting his chin on Usa-chan's soft tummy. "Though I wonder why she hasn't come before? She seems like a nice girl, no?"

"Club," Mori said succinctly. Honey brightened.

"Oh, that's true, isn't it Takashi? She's in the Kendo Club, so she's busy."

"And until now, her only experiences with Host Club members have been the twins," Kyouya said, glancing at the Hitachiin brothers, "and Tamaki. You can hardly blame her."

Haruhi smiled; the twins were not so amused.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" they asked, together. "We're hardly even acquainted with her. All we know is that she used to be first in the class all the time…until Haruhi came along." They grinned. Haruhi blinked.

"I guess so, she's second now isn't she?"

"That is correct. Previously, however, she was first, and there was always quite a large gap between her and the next person, if I remember. Now she steadily occupies second place standing," Kyouya affirmed. "Never slipping to third, nor," he said meaningfully, "rising within an inch of first."

The twins looked at him with interest. "What do you mean, Kyouya-senpai?"

"You mean that she's second on purpose?" Honey guessed, his large eyes wide.

"Who is?" Tamaki asked, sprawling out languidly on the couch. All of the customers had left by now; the Host Club members were alone.

"Miho," Haruhi told him. Tamaki frowned.

"At what?"

"In the class," the twins chorused.

"Oh. That's because my daughter's so smart!" Tamaki beamed at Haruhi, who rolled her eyes.

"No. Kyouya-senpai seems to think otherwise," Kaoru said. "He was about to tell us why."

"Why?" Tamaki repeated, looking baffled. "What are you talking about?"

"We're about to find out," Haruhi said impatiently. "Hush."

His face fell, but he refrained from further statement. They all looked expectantly at Kyouya, who shrugged.

"I expect it has something to do with Haruhi's special status at Ouran," he said. "Shinotsuka realizes that competing for first would jeopardize Haruhi's scholarship, and while Shinotsuka doesn't really lose anything by being second, Haruhi gains everything by remaining first. After all, second in Class 10-A is still a very respectable position."

"Says the top of _his_ class," Haruhi muttered.

"But wouldn't that be difficult to maintain?" Hikaru asked. Kyouya shrugged again.

"I would guess that she knows which subjects Haruhi excels in—"

"History and English," the twins chimed in.

"—and which she has more trouble with—"

"Physics, chemistry, and _art_," the twins snickered; Haruhi glared at them. Kyouya paused.

"You're having trouble with physics, Haruhi? You never told me. I would be happy to help you. Or I could arrange for Ayame to tutor you again?"

"It's not that bad," Haruhi mumbled. "And I'd be scared to see what Kyouya-senpai might charge for tutoring sessions."

Kyouya was amused.

"Anyway, as I was saying, she probably uses knowledge of Haruhi's academic strengths and weaknesses to arrange her own achievements, so as not to raise suspicions or fall too behind."

"Such generosity for my daughter!" Tamaki gushed; everyone ignored him.

"But wouldn't her parents protest?" the twins wondered.

"How would they know what's going on?" Kyouya reasoned. The brothers exchanged looks.

"Oh."

"It's almost seems like a game, doesn't it?" Honey remarked, tilting his head as he considered it. Kyouya sat back on the sofa, opening his folder.

"It is, albeit one with generous intentions."

Haruhi looked at him, her expression thoughtful.

"You know, Kyouya-senpai, you make her sound like you."

"I?" Kyouya favored her with a supercilious smile. "I would never cede first place." He looked over at Tamaki. "I hope that's not what you're requiring of our friendship next."

The blond boy gave a delicate snort.

"Don't be ridiculous, Kyouya. I couldn't take the pressure." He looked seriously back at his friend. "Though I do try, you know. I know you like the challenge. Yet you say that Miho does not. Would any Ouran student really sabotage herself that way?"

Kyouya shrugged. "They do it all the time," he said, glancing at the twins.

"Kyouya-senpai, you're giving away secrets again," they protested. "And we do try…sometimes."

Hikaru made a face. "And it's not our fault we have such _brainies_ in the class," he added, leering down at Haruhi. She waved him off.

"The Lord has a point, though," Kaoru said. "Miho may think she's helping Haruhi, but if she's just making her complacent in first place, is that really helping her?"

"Hey," Haruhi said mildly.

"Haruhi," Kyouya asked, "in which subjects does Miho routinely best you?"

"English and Chemistry," she replied, after a moment's thought.

"Ah," Honey said. "Something she's good at, and something she's bad at, no? That way, no matter what, Haru-chan will keep trying. It's good to be challenged, yeah?" He beamed.

"Indeed," Kyouya agreed. "Though I might say, I suspect that if Shinotsuka seriously coveted the number one position, you might need to study a bit more, Haruhi."

The twins groaned.

"Don't tell her that, she never stops as it is!" they complained, just as Tamaki shot up, shocked.

"Kyouya! How can you abuse Haruhi like that? She's already studies so hard!"

Haruhi, however, did not look in the least bit offended.

"Kyouya-senpai, are you suggesting that Miho is not as ambitious as you are?"

"Not everyone is," Tamaki muttered. Kyouya glanced at him; the club president muffled an eep.

"No," Kyouya said. "I am merely suggesting that she has other ambitions…or other means of attaining them."

Haruhi shook her head and smiled.

"Well, I think Miho is a nice person, you know. She's already keeping my secret, I think, even though I haven't asked her to."

"Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?" Kyouya's quiet question and Mori's look of mild surprise were widely eclipsed by the exclamation of the other four.

"How did she find out?" the twins demanded, as behind them, Tamaki started panicking—loudly.

"I'm not sure," Haruhi admitted. "It's just that the way she talks to me sometimes…it makes me think that she knows."

Hikaru and Kaoru both turned to look anxiously at Kyouya.

"Do you think she'll tell?"

"And you're asking me because…?"

"We mean, how are you going to stop her from telling!" they shouted. "Summon the Ootori police! Or better yet, the evil-low-blood-pressure-lord glare! Threaten her!"

"But, Haru-chan, how long do you think Mi-chan has known?" Honey asked. Haruhi cocked her head, considering the question.

"Probably since school began," she finally decided. Tamaki's wailing grew even _louder_.

"If she's known all this time, Kyou-chan, and she hasn't said anything about it, then don't you think she'll continue on this way?" Honey appealed to Kyouya.

"Truly, I can't see any reason why she would reveal Haruhi's secret," Kyouya said.

"Right, she hasn't approached any of us with blackmail demands," the twins said emphatically. "Still. Tomorrow in school we'll corner her and—"

"You will _not_," Haruhi said hotly, moving to stand between them. "I don't think—"

"Stay out of this, Haruhi," they told her. "This has nothing to do with you."

"What?" She rolled her eyes. "Hikaru, Kaoru, you listen to me; I won't have you—"

Smiling faintly, Kyouya flipped through the pages in his folder, and resumed writing to the soundtrack of the chaos around him. He was used to it.

* * *

Don't forget to leave me a note! :) Chapter Three should be up...soon...eep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

All in all, Miho thought, the interview with Kyouya had gone rather well. If nothing else, they seemed to understand each other.

She walked out of the school's front gates, expecting to find her car waiting, and it was; but parked slightly to the side was another long black car. Miho only glanced at it as she headed for her own, but as she approached it the strange car's door opened, and a tall, slim woman stepped out. Miho recognized her, of course.

"Miho-san, excuse me," the only Ootori daughter said, smiling, "do you suppose we might talk for a while? I know of a nice tea shop, not far from here."

"Of course," Miho said automatically, bowing deeply. "Let me just send my driver home, if I could." Fuyumi nodded, and Miho went over to her own family's car to tell the driver that she would call him later to pick her up.

"We can take you home, Miho-san," Fuyumi called in her gentle voice. "It would be no trouble."

"Oh, no, it's fine," the younger girl replied. Her driver nodded politely, and pulled away from the curb, heading home. Miho turned back to Fuyumi, who slid back into her waiting car; at a gesture, Miho followed her in.

"I'm sorry, this must seem very random," Fuyumi apologized.

"No, of course not, Fuyumi-sama—"

"Please, call me onee-sama," the older woman said with a smile. "Or onee-san, if you'd prefer."

Miho smiled warmly back, though in truth she was not so easily won. She said nothing more, and Fuyumi let the silence sit until they reached the tea shop. It was one of Miho's favorites, an elegant little shop with private alcoves and a clean, bright atmosphere. The wait staff there knew her by name, and the tiny old woman at the cashier beamed in welcome when Miho and Fuyumi walked in.

"Miho-san, Fuyumi-san, I'm so glad to see you both! I did not know you two knew each other! How nice!" the old woman said, clearly pleased. Fuyumi and Miho both smiled back.

"Obaa-san, how are you today?" Miho asked; the shop owner laughed.

"Oh I'm fine, I'm fine! There's a nice table toward the back, you girls go and sit down, I'll bring you something right away. What kind of tea would you like? We have all kinds today! And a special cake today, too, you must try! Sit, sit, I will bring it all, yes?"

The girls nodded and went to the table she indicated. Moments later, their cakes and teas had arrived, and after exchanging polite conversation with the sweet café owner, the girls were left to their own company.

"I guess this may seem so rushed and unnecessary," Fuyumi said, once they had both settled down with steaming cups of tea and a slice each of the "special cake." "I mean, you have at least six years until you officially join the family, and six years in which to get acquainted with Kyouya. It is a long time." She paused, taking a sip of her tea. "But I didn't know how well you two knew each other—if at all—and I didn't want you to…hate him, before you could grow to like him."

That surprised Miho; of all the things she had expected Fuyumi to say, that had not been one of them.

"I don't hate him," she said, truthfully. Fuyumi seemed relieved.

"No, perhaps not," the older woman said. "But I thought…well. My own husband is a kind man, and much…easier to understand, than my brother. And yet I still resented Reizo, in the beginning."

Miho raised an eyebrow, but took a smallbite of cake instead of saying anything. Fuyumi smiled.

"Of course, it didn't last very long; I don't really have the temperament to be rebellious, I suppose, and my husband charmed me with his own sweetness." She paused, taking another sip. "But Kyouya…is not my husband, and you are not me."

Miho chewed slowly. What did one say to that?

"Oh dear," Fuyumi said, looking embarrassed. "That didn't come out right."

Miho smiled at the older woman. "I understand what you're trying to say," she assured her. "It speaks well of Kyouya, that his sister would take such care in trying to make sure he will be happy."

"But you do not know what I hope to achieve through this," Fuyumi guessed. Miho hesitated just briefly before nodding.

"I am hoping that you will simply give him a chance," Fuyumi said gently. "I do not know how things stand between you, but I know that Kyouya has never depended on love, and is not likely to, unless he is shown how to."

Miho was startled, though she hid it well; she listened attentively, but looked down at her tea instead of at her future sister-in-law. Love? Was that ever even a possibility? Fuyumi, however, seemed to be done speaking for the moment; Miho realized that the other woman was waiting for _her_ to say something. She looked up, meeting Fuyumi's kind gaze with her own direct one.

"I don't know what to say," she said carefully. "Fuyumi-sama, Kyouya and I have spoken exactly twice. I have known that we are to be engaged for precisely one day. I haven't had time to think about it, nor time to act upon it, and…we hardly know each other."

"I understand," Fuyumi said softly. "Thank you for your honesty." She smiled. "It is something Kyouya will appreciate as well, I think, though I do not know if he will ever say so."

That is something that just remains to be seen, Miho thought. They finished the rest of their tea in companionable silence; Miho was relieved to find that Fuyumi was easy to sit with—she didn't feel uncomfortable or uneasy, despite their last topic of conversation. That boded well, at least. She had never had a sister; she did not know how to treat one. But Fuyumi seemed easy enough to get along with. So far.

"Do you like the ring?"

Miho looked up. "I'm sorry?"

Fuyumi smiled knowingly. "The ring. I asked if it suited you."

"Oh, yes, I like it—it's very different, fresh," Miho said, astutely aware of the lack of a ring on either hand. Fortunately, Fuyumi seemed to understand.

"I picked it out—my father asked me to. I don't believe Kyouya knows anything about it."

"Oh." Miho considered that. "My father said it was a pair ring."

Fuyumi blushed. "Ah. Yes. It was meant to be, but then…I didn't think I could get Kyouya to agree to such a thing…so it is a gift, instead. Something to make you happy." She smiled again. "He will not recognize it, or its intended meaning."

"Thank you," Miho said, with a genuine smile. She would wear the ring, then. It's not like she needed a reminder, but…she might as well get used to the idea, and as a piece of jewelry, she liked it well enough.

When they were finished, Fuyumi insisted on treating the younger girl, and then she took her home. After she had dropped Miho off and they had exchanged the proper thank-yous and farewells, Fuyumi headed back to her own home. Her husband was still at work, but she called him anyway.

"Fuyumi, love? What is it?"

"Are you very busy?" she asked, smiling.

"No, not at this very moment; we've just finished a meeting, and I have a short reprieve. Was there something you needed?"

"I just had tea with Miho."

"Kyouya's fiancée?"

"Yes."

"And? How is she?"

"Just like Kyouya." Fuyumi sighed, letting some of her concern slip into her voice.

"Fuyumi, they're very young. Love is not something that appears overnight."

"You do not understand. Kyouya will respect her, treat her well, be civil. And Miho, in turn, will respect him, treat him well, be civil. It is how they were raised, and how they have grown up to be. But they are treating this as another business transaction; neither of them think of this marriage as anything more than a union of names—they do not consider the possibility of it being anything other than a way to link their family names together. All Miho is concerned about is that they get along in some civil manner, if that."

"I still think that they are too young, Fuyumi."

She laughed. "Kyouya has never been too young, dear. And Miho…she is a strong girl."

"Then they will sort it out. It is probably best not to meddle, don't you think?"

Fuyumi sighed. "I know, I know. But I worry."

There was a slight chuckle on his end. "I know. But we'll talk about it some more later, love. I have to go now."

"All right. I'll see you at home."

"Of course. Good-bye, Fuyumi." He hung up. She put her away her own phone and sighed again, leaning back against the headrest of her seat. Reizo was right; she should mind her own business. But a _little_ help here and there couldn't hurt, right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next day, after school, as Miho and Haruhi were walking down the hall together, Miho asked, "Haruhi, have I done something to offend the twins?"

"Hikaru and Kaoru?" Haruhi said, puzzled. "No, I don't…why would you think so?"

Miho wore a faint smile, with just a hint of exasperation that suggested she was used to Haruhi's obliviousness.

"Well, they've been leering at me all morning," the other girl said dryly. "And while it's not exactly harming anyone, it's a bit distracting."

Haruhi threw an alarmed look over her shoulder, and sure enough, the twins were following them, wicked grins on their faces. Their amber eyes glinted in the sunlight.

"I can't think of anything—" Haruhi began, and then she remembered yesterday's discussion in the Host Club. She had _not_ been able to extract a promise from either of the twins that they would refrain from "settling" matters on their own, and though they had dropped it easily enough, she knew better than to believe that they had forgotten about it.

"Miho-san…this may sound a little startling, but…please run," Haruhi murmured, dropping her voice to a level she hoped the twins wouldn't be able to hear. The other girl raised an eyebrow, but Haruhi shook her head. "Please. Go to the Third Music Room. Now."

"The Host Club room?" Miho frowned. "If I'm running from the twins, Haruhi, that hardly seems like the wisest—"

"Customers will already be there," Haruhi said, shoving the other girl ahead. She flashed her a tight grin. "And if customers are there, Kyouya-senpai won't let the twins cause any trouble."

"Do you really think this merits…" Miho began, but then she shook her head and simply did as she was told, resigning herself to the fact that she would have to see Kyouya, again, when she had promised herself—and him—that she wouldn't. What would it seem like now? It wasn't that she intended to avoid him, precisely—that was, after all, an altogether immature (and not to mention illogical) thing to do. But she didn't want to seem like she was deliberately throwing herself in his path, either. Oh well, she told herself as she ran toward the Third Music Room, there wasn't much else she could do about it, was there? A thin smile crossed her lips. That was definitely getting to be the trend in her life.

When she entered the Host Club's room, there were indeed already a handful of customers in the room, chatting excitedly as they waited for whatever host suited their fancy—at least, that's what Miho assumed, because the only boy she could see in the room was, of course, Kyouya. He rose when she entered, not looking surprised at all. She wondered if he had more than one facial expression, and decided that he didn't. At least the one he had was handsome, she thought wryly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, taking her slightly harried appearance in stride, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be running to him in a moment of need. Her innate independent spirit soured at the thought.

"Not exactly," she told him, in a voice low enough that no one else could overhear—not that anyone was paying them the least bit attention. "Haruhi sent me. She seemed to think the twins are staging an attempt on my life, or something equally dramatic. I hardly think I'm in any real danger, but she was quite insistent."

"She?" he repeated, peering down at her through his glasses. She smiled radiantly back at him. He straightened. "I see."

"I am sorry, I know we agreed to stay out of each other's way," Miho continued. Kyouya considered her.

"Is that what we did?"

A slight frown creased her features, but before she could reply, he turned toward the back of the room, to the suddenly convenient appearance of double doors. He knocked once, sharply; one of the doors creaked open to expose a sliver of darkness.

"Yeees?" a thin voice whispered.

"Nekozawa-senpai, I'm sorry to disturb you and your club," Kyouya said politely, "but I was wondering if you would allow Miho-san passage through your rooms? She's trying to get back outside to her club…without being seen, it seems."

"Of course," the soft, sibilant voice assured him. "I regret that I myself will not be able to oversee this, but I am sure one of my club members will be happy to escort her out."

Kyouya bowed slightly. "Thank you." He turned to Miho. "I trust you are not afraid of the dark?"

She laughed, an expression of genuine mirth. "No, I am not," she said lightly, and without further ado, slipped into the shadows beyond the door, which closed with a soft click behind her. The entrance faded from sight. After a moment, Kyouya resumed his seat, opening his laptop again, but this time he found that he couldn't quite concentrate.

The problem, he decided, was that she was more of a wild card than anything. He had to admit that she was more unpredictable than he would have expected, and he wouldn't be able to peg her down, file her neatly away into this personality category or that one unless he grew to know her better, and he just couldn't take the time.

Besides, she had made it perfectly clear that she liked their lives the way they were—separate—and he was inclined to agree. Then _why_ couldn't he get her out of his mind? His fingers now automatically flipped to her file, as if wanting to remind him time and time again, of the blanks that followed her name, the appalling lack of detail on one who would so soon be integral to his own life and success. They were to be allies, would be expected to present a united front to the world, and yet he didn't know what to expect from her. He couldn't read her, and suspected it was not something to be overcome merely with time; no, it would take effort—on her part as well as on his. But was she willing? He had no way of knowing.

He made a small sound of annoyance, and then turned his attention back to the screen before him, forcing himself to refocus on his usual "games;" his buying and selling of small business through the Internet.

Kyouya owned more than a dozen real enterprises, purchases he had made through careful acquisition and expansion of his own funds and stock options, and they were all of them doing more than tolerably well in their own section of commerce. He was not one for big changes, for anything that would underscore the change in ownership at whatever company he bought out; usually he let the original management and staff continue on as they had been, unless he observed that they were inadequate. In such a case, the offending official—and _only_ the offending official, or the person ultimately responsible—was promptly replaced with more capable people, whom Kyouya would find through recruitment offices or through networking connections of his own.

In most cases, however, the old workers kept their jobs, and and in all cases, though everyone was made aware that a new owner was in control, they never realized just exactly who that new owner was. He managed most of his dealings through secure, trustworthy third parties, preferring to handle business affairs through agents or through impersonal methods of communication (websites, secured private email, and in a pinch, the phone), and was both careful and thorough. He was successful in large part because he held no deep, irrational attachments to the businesses he acquired, and was not bogged down by emotional ties. He was ruthless in his endeavors, making sure to guard his own wealth and identity vigilantly, and tolerated no failures, but he was _not_, however, so thoughtless as to displace whole factories of workers or whole staffs just because he could. Tactics such as those were not only careless, but dishonorable, and encouraged bad work ethic, after all.

In this manner, he had saved a number of small businesses on the verge of bankruptcy, restoring them to various levels of success. He owned the bookstore Miho frequented, for example (one of an entire chain he had bought out while their sales were drooping; a bold move, but one he had been prepared to make near the very beginning of his move into commerce), and when the Host Club, pioneered by Tamaki's boundless enthusiasm, took one of their many "field trips" to the commoner malls, he always set aside some time to observe things in the stores for himself.

Such habits and his skill in the game had quickly built up his own private fortune to the point where he had now amassed enough funds to take a more serious step—or a more serious gamble, depending on how one viewed the situation. He had been eyeing a small bank chain for some time now—one that had close ties to many hospitals; hospital management staff and a large number of doctors held accounts with Akimoto Banks, and he thought it would be an interesting move, if nothing more. Certainly he stood to gain a lot from it, in influence as well as in material—and monetary—advantages; it also put him in a crucial position, relative to the Ootori circumstances. But it would be a very bold move, and he spent some time wondering if it was perhaps too soon. Kyouya was not one to shy away from confrontations, of course, but he knew how to bide his time, and he wasn't sure he was ready to give away his entire hand so early in the game. Such a daring move so close to home would incite his father's attentions, at the very least, and the third Ootori son did _not_ want the entire will of the Ootori forces bent on seeking him—and his hidden identity on the nets—out.

With such heavy "entertainment" constantly in the background of his thoughts, it was a wonder he still managed the hectic schedule of the Host Club so well, but manage it he did. He finished checking one of his many email accounts; by now the rest of the Hosts had filed into the room, in various dispositions, and set about entertaining their groups of guests. Tamaki was the last, striding gracefully through the music room door to sprawl onto one of the sofas, striking an elegant pose. He was alone for the moment; a rarity.

"Tamaki," Kyouya said, without looking up, "are you serious about this request? The one you wanted me to look into."

"Of course. Why?" Tamaki's violet eyes widened. "You can't mean we've been _denied_?" His voice rose incredulously.

"Of course not," Kyouya replied. "I've already made all of the proper arrangements. I'm only telling you so that you can start promoting the event." He gave Tamaki a cool smile. "I would hate to be the only ones there."

"Oh." Tamaki recovered with astonishing speed. "Don't worry," he said confidently. "The whole school will be there, I promise." With that, he turned to one of his many doting customers, who had suddenly appeared at his elbow.

"The whole school?" Honey echoed, glancing over as he passed by for more cake, his large eyes filled with curiosity. He looked up at Mori, who shrugged.

"What's this?" Haruhi asked, suspicion narrowing her eyes. The twins turned to her with identical sly grins.

"_You'll_ see," they told her mysteriously—they had apparently not quite forgiven her for thwarting their plans for Miho. "It'll be splendid. Come, we'll show you—you should start practicing again, after all. We know you're a bit rusty."

Haruhi backed away warily; the twins, not in the least rebuffed, crept ever closer, their grins stretching across their entire wicked faces. Kyouya continued working, letting the twins continue to torment Haruhi for the moment at least, though he knew he would have to step in at some point, if it got too extreme—or if Tamaki got too hysterical in protest. He was spared any action, however, as the twins' usual customers came skipping in and Haruhi, finally exasperated, slumped into the chair across from him, wearing her normal look of irritation. Kyouya recognized that his immediate vicinity was usually a good sanctuary, an effective defense against both the twins' mischief and Tamaki's enthusiasm, and didn't begrudge her the space. She sighed heavily.

"Troubles?" he inquired absently, still focused on his laptop screen.

"How does Kyouya-senpai manage to be so patient?" Haruhi asked wearily. "And keep everyone together, and everything running smoothly?"

He cast a single, amused glance in her direction.

"It's simple to cater to their needs," he told her. "Tamaki only needs to be flattered with attention and ignored, in equal doses. And the twins are the same way."

"Easier said than done," Haruhi mumbled. Kyouya suppressed a smile. Haruhi lifted her head a little, obviously considering something.

"But are those really 'needs,' or 'wants'?" she wondered. Then she shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter; you can use both to manipulate them."

"Manipulate?" Kyouya repeated blandly. "How nice." He straightened then, closing his laptop; Haruhi was obviously still disgruntled, and he was honest enough to admit that he was not really getting anywhere, not in this preoccupied state. Thus, time for a break.

"Your dealings with people need only be dictated by knowledge of their wants, Haruhi," he told her. "Take the Host Club customers, for example. They are not all exactly the same, of course; they are different girls who come from different families, all with varying degrees of wealth and notoriety. But when they come here, they are all seeking pleasure. At that point, once you know their tastes—prince type, wild type, the little devil type, etc—it is easy enough to please them. And, in fact, we have based our entire club on this principle. Something Tamaki has come up with, as you might recall." He adjusted his glasses; Haruhi was convinced he did it purposely to make sure that the glare was always focused just so on their lenses, so that his eyes were never directly visible. It was probably just as well, she realized—she wasn't so sure she wanted to see his expression.

"Honorable or not, I'll leave that for you to decide, Haruhi," he said. "But the practice harms no one, and to the contrary, we are making many girls happier, with little expenditure on their part and little effort on ours. All together a neat little system, wouldn't you say?" He smiled at her.

"Sounds very cold-blooded," she murmured.

"Disappointed?" he asked.

"Not exactly, no," she admitted, "since it's nothing new to me, I suppose." She stopped, sensing the opportunity to branch into a subject that had always aroused her curiosity. "But Kyouya-senpai, don't you ever try to entertain a girl without thinking of her pedigree or her connection—or possible connection—to your family?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"And you, I suppose, serve as a Host purely out of pleasure and charity…nothing to do with an 8 million yen vase and its resulting debt?"

She blanched. "Well, but…I enjoy it too," she said defensively. "And it's more like 5 million, anyway…"

"¥5,343,333.34," Kyouya replied, "but let's not squabble over details." His perfect, placid smile—the devil's smile, Haruhi had always thought—sent shivers up her spine.

"'Kay," Haruhi mumbled. She knew that she should really let the subject drop, but she was stubborn, and she sensed that such an opportunity might not come by again. "But Kyouya-senpai, what I mean is, don't you ever do something…just for the pleasure of the thing itself?"

"You mean like our King over there, who sincerely believes himself in love with every woman he meets, and endeavors to please them simply because he believes them desirous of being pleased?" Kyouya arched a brow again.

"Well, no," Haruhi hedged—well yes, she thought privately, though maybe not to _that_ extreme—"but hasn't there ever been a girl you truly warmed to?"

He cast her a sidelong glance, and even from that angle she could see the amusement in his face. "I hope you are not referring to yourself."

Haruhi blushed furiously in spite of herself. "Senpai!" she protested. As usual, she couldn't tell whether he was serious or not, and as usual, that made her wary. Well, that's what I get for trying to pry, she told herself. Kyouya chuckled.

"Don't worry, Haruhi. If ever I meet a woman truly worthy of being pleased, I will endeavor to do so. Perhaps even without any ulterior motives—though I can't promise anything."

Haruhi sighed, and gave up.

* * *

A/N:

Kyouya's last line is a reference to Mr. Darcy's own thoughts about Elizabeth at some point in P&P...not exactly the same kind of situation, entirely, but I just thought I'd mention the reference, in case anyone caught it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

A/N: Kuragano Momoka is the Vice-president for Haruhi's class (and one of Haruhi's customers); Souga Kazukiyo is the President for Haruhi's class (and the scaredy-cat with glasses…he's adorable!) Nishimoto Aisa is another minor OC I stuck in there to suit my purposes (and because not many of the other classmates have names and distinct personalities, lol).

And one more thing: I lied. This is going to take more than eight chapters. Please don't hate me. Yes? 

* * *

"Miho-chan, have you heard? About the Halloween event the Host Club is hosting?" Momoka smiled. "You're going to attend, right? It's being held in lieu of the individual class events—they've already gotten permission! They're planning it with the whole school in mind."

"Then I guess I don't really have a choice," Miho laughed. "But this is the first I've heard of it."

"What kind of event is it going to be?" Kazukiyo asked warily, an uneasy smile fixed on his pale face.

"I heard it's going to be a masquerade ball!" someone else chimed in; Kazukiyo breathed an almost inaudible sigh of relief.

"Oh, well, that's all right then," he said. Momoka smiled at him.

"But it's so exciting," Aisa said, eagerly joining their conversation. "A masquerade ball—just think of it! It's the perfect chance for your secret admirer to come out with it and confess!"

"If he could find you amidst all the costumes," Miho said wryly. "Though I confess, I don't really understand the draw of the theme. Don't the Host Club members cosplay all the time?"

"Yes, but you always know who they are," Aisa said. "This time, it's all so much more mysterious! All restraints are removed when the threat of social embarrassment and personal identity are gone!"

"Well, I suppose so, but then learning that you have a secret admirer doesn't really do you much good, if you don't know who he really is," Miho observed. The other girls giggled.

"Miho-chan, you take the fun out of everything," Momoka scolded good-naturedly. Miho just laughed, holding her hands up in surrender.

"I apologize," she said. "I'm sure it'll be spectacular."

"Oh, it will," Aisa said excitedly. "Ticket sales start tomorrow—we need to make sure we're early in line!"

"If the whole school's expected…I'm sure they won't run out of tickets," Kazukiyo assured her. But she wasn't listening; she was already chattering animatedly with Momoka about ideas for a costume. Kazukiyo sighed; Miho gave him a sympathetic smile.

"It's not that I don't like the Hosts. I really do," he said mournfully, "it's just that I wish they would give the rest of us a chance, sometimes."

Miho laughed softly.

"I doubt any girl has any serious, irremediable attachment to a Host," she told him. "They're simply convenient—and very nice guys, of course," she amended.

"You think so?" he said hopefully. "That's right, you don't frequent their activites, Miho-kun."

"No," she smiled, "I have a club of my own to attend. But it seems I'll get my chance here, doesn't it?"

"It does seem like it'll be a fun event," Kazukiyo agreed. Miho nodded, though her thoughts had suddenly turned to something else—or someone else, to be more specific. She wondered what the odds would be of bumping into her…fiancé, at an event he was helping to run. Low enough, she decided; the Host Club was targeting the participation of the whole school, after all. It didn't seem like there would be any harm in attending, then. And the Host Club members were nothing if not considerate; there was at least a month between now and Halloween, plenty of time to arrange for a costume to be made. Which reminded her: she had to take the green gown her mother had bought for her in to the tailor, to have the appropriate adjustments made; the engagement banquet was coming up—two weeks after the masquerade ball. She shrugged, and started packing up her school things. She had to get to practice.

* * *

"Ah!" Propelled by someone slamming against her ankle, Miho lost her balance and toppled over to the side—only to be righted again by a strong pair of arms.

"Miho-senpai!" Satoshi cried from behind her—the accidental culprit, in this case.

"Mori-senpai!" she said, embarrassed. "Thank you."

The tall senior nodded and moved on, continuing to observe the other students in the Kendo Club.

"I'm so sorry, Miho-senpai!" Satoshi said, looking anxious. "I didn't mean to hit you, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, Satoshi," she replied, smiling. "At least I got to be in your brother's arms for once, eh?"

He stared at her for a moment, and then started snickering, making a valiant attempt to quell his laughter so as not to catch the attention—and ire—of the sensei or the other students.

"Well, if that's all you wanted," he whispered, as they resumed their warm-up practices, "you should visit the Host Club, right?"

"Where would I find the time?" she replied, amused. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Well, you could leave when my brother does," he suggested.

"I do," Miho reminded him. "But then I go to Calligraphy."

"Oh right," he remembered. "I guess you have a problem then huh, senpai?" He grinned. Miho just smiled.

"It's too bad, really," Satoshi continued. "My brother has a lot of fun with the Host Club, I think. They even do things on weekends, you know? They're more than just an afterschool club." He smiled, no doubt thinking affectionately of his older brother.

"Oh?" Miho was faintly surprised.

"Yeah, and this past summer they went down to Karuizawa together. Of course, he never says anything, but I like to think, that if he didn't enjoy it—or if Honey-senpai didn't—then, maybe they wouldn't go, right?" Satoshi smiled. Miho didn't say anything as she continued her warm-up, but the expression on her face was thoughtful.

"So, maybe you should try to make it out there one day, senpai. You never know—"

"Satoshi." The rarely heard voice was quiet but firm; Satoshi blanched and then promptly fell silent, focusing on the practice again, as his older brother continued his circuit of the room. Miho hid a smile.

* * *

Two hours later, after the session at the Kendo Club and then the less physically grueling, but equally disciplined session at the Calligraphy Club, Miho was ready to go home. She walked out of the gates and stopped, heaving a sigh when she saw that her own car was missing, and another strange black car was waiting. Two stern-faced men wearing sunglasses and black suits were standing outside, looking straight at her. Strangely enough, she recognized them, and couldn't help but feel annoyed. Was she going to be waylaid by a member of the Ootori family every day? Then the door opened, and she summoned a smile.

"Miho-san. I'm sorry, but your driver was having some problems with the car. He was about to send for someone else to come, but I told him that we'd be happy to take you home today. And for as long as necessary, of course." Kyouya gestured toward the open door.

"Ootori-senpai. That's very…generous of you," she said, resigning herself and walking toward him.

"Must we be so formal?" he inquired, smiling placidly at her. She didn't miss a beat.

"Why of course not, my love, my darling," she purred, flashing him a radiant smile as she slipped into the car before him. He looked after her, amused.

"'Kyouya,' will be fine," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Awkward silence was really getting to be an irritating part of her life recently, Miho observed. She continued to stare out the window, wondering if Kyouya's cool, professional bodyguards would object to a request for them to put the pedal to the metal; she wanted to get home before the tension in the car reached an explosive conclusion. Her eyes flickered to the corner of the window, searching for Kyouya; as always, he was utterly composed. She was amused. He knew, of course—he had to know, after all, to market himself in the Host Club—that what attracted people to him the most was his "cool" exterior, his semblance of effortless control in every situation, the aura of casual power and terrible influence. The attitude was flawless in its goal, which was, of course, to gain the respect and deference of his peers—and superiors—and though she knew it was not merely an affectation, she wondered just how calculating he was about its effect on people. For example, was he gauging her reaction to him right now? What was he expecting? What was he betting on?

"I'm so sorry to inconvenience you," she said, to break the silence. "I'm sure I could have called for another car."

"It's no trouble," he replied, his cool gray eyes slewing over to hers. "Besides, it afforded us this chance to clear up any misunderstandings we might have. For example, it is hardly necessary for us to 'stay out of each other's way,' as you put it."

She allowed herself a slight smile. "Oh? Did you _want_ to get in each other's way, then?"

He returned her smile with one of his own. "I'm sorry, have I done something to offend?"

Miho glanced at him. "No, of course not. I never meant to give that impression. You must forgive my sense of humor."

Kyouya gave an elegant shrug. "Then, has there been something in my behavior to suggest that I wish to avoid an acquaintance for as long as possible?"

Miho was still looking out of the window. "No. You have been most courteous." Her voice was carefully even, almost pleasant, but Kyouya wasn't quite finished yet.

"I could hardly blame you for something that neither of us had any control over."

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Was that a rebuke?

"I wouldn't do you the dishonor of suspecting it," she replied blandly. Kyouya smiled. So prickly. What exactly had his father been thinking when he made this arrangement? Clearly Yoshio Ootori had never met the girl. Kyouya was not a sadistic person, but he would have liked to witness the scene when Miho was told of the arrangement. It would surely have been…interesting. He decided to try something else.

"That day in the bookstore…I didn't know."

Miho turned to look at him, her expression thoughtful.

"I didn't either, then."

He smiled, that cool, implacable smile. "Or you can be sure, I would not have let you take the city bus home."

She raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing.

"Do you go there often?" he asked, continuing on as if nothing had happened. She gave a slight shrug.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. I like books, and the clerks there are helpful and friendly without being overbearing…or obsequious."

"Indeed? I'm glad to hear it," he replied. "I know what to give you for an engagement present, then."

She frowned. Was he being serious, or sarcastic? She favored him with a delighted smile.

"I'm sure I'll love whatever book you give me," she said mildly.

Kyouya's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses. Was she being serious, or sarcastic?

"We must, after all, have the same tastes," she added. Kyouya was silent for a moment, and then he laughed.

"Indeed."

* * *

When Kyouya finally returned home after dropping Miho off, he was more tired than he would have admitted. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, either, as he had been busy with some of the preparations for Tamaki's silly masquerade ball, and he had also had to settle some affairs with one of his businesses. With any luck, his father would be at a business meeting tonight and he could get to bed early—

"Kyouya, how are you doing? I haven't seen you these past two weeks," his sister said warmly, coming out to greet him. He frowned at her.

"Fuyumi-nee-san, you shouldn't be here. Father will be displeased."

She gave a faint smile. "That isn't exactly news, Kyouya. But it doesn't matter; I'm leaving now. I just stopped by for a bit on my way home. And Father's still out anyway, and won't be home until late tonight. Though someone else is here."

"Oh?" Kyouya was so obviously disinterested, Fuyumi just shook her head.

"Tamaki-san is here," she said. Her younger brother rolled his eyes.

"That idiot? What does he want?"

"Kyouya," she reproved gently. He sighed.

"Yes, yes." He started walking toward the house. "I'll see you later, Onee-san." The door closed behind him. Fuyumi shook her head again, and headed for her car.

As his sister had said, Tamaki was waiting for him, slouched on the couch. Kyouya stopped in the doorway, frowning. Something was wrong.

"Tamaki? Is something the matter?"

His friend looked up at him, his violet eyes unexpectedly pained. "I just had tea with my father," Tamaki said, his voice expressionless. Kyouya set his bag carefully on the floor.

"Oh?" He said absently. "That's good, though I hardly think I need to be informed." He paused. "What did he say?"

"We talked about the masquerade ball for a bit—he's excited too."

"That's good. Did you come up with any interesting ideas?"

"Some," Tamaki said vaguely, not sounding in the least eager to share those. Kyouya looked sharply at him. "But as I was leaving, he told me to pass on his congratulations to you."

Kyouya froze.

"Congratulations…on your engagement."

"Ah," Kyouya said. Tamaki was looking at him intently, utterly serious.

"You're engaged?"

He saw no point in denying it. "Yes."

Tamaki stiffened. "You didn't tell me."

"It is a very recent thing."

"You didn't tell me," Tamaki repeated.

Kyouya sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "The announcements were coming out soon, I saw no need to." He paused, looking back at his friend with the faintest hint of a dry smile. "You _are _coming to the engagement banquet, I presume."

Tamaki didn't answer that. Instead, he said, "Should I be congratulating you too?"

Kyouya gave him a puzzled smile. "If you like. I can hardly require it."

"_Kyouya_." Tamaki's voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "Are you going to be happy?" Not for the first time, Tamaki wished he could see beyond the glare of Kyouya's glasses…though even if he could, he realized, he wasn't sure he would understand the expression he found there.

"This doesn't really call for all of these theatrics, Tamaki."

"Kyouya. I'm your best friend, right?"

Again, the faint twist of his lips. "If you insist."

"_Kyouya_."

The third Ootori son sighed. "I don't see how that's changed, Tamaki. Nor is it likely to—it's not like I'm getting married tomorrow."

Tamaki shook his head in exasperation. "I'm not jealous, you ingrate, I'm worried. What if you don't love her? …Don't you deserve better?"

Kyouya shrugged. "Doesn't she? Don't we all? But fine, even if I were allowed to make the choice of fiancée, or wife, on my own, who's to say my own choice would be any better? Life's not always as simple as you make it out to be. There are realities involved."

Tamaki sighed. "But don't you think—"

"Everyone loves you, Tamaki, because you love everyone, and they can see it. We are not all so fortunate."

"We're not talking about me," Tamaki said firmly. "We're trying to talk about _you. _Why are you being so stubborn?"

Kyouya rolled his eyes. "This, coming from you?"

Tamaki frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Kyouya shook his head. "Never mind." He ran a long, slender-fingered hand through his dark hair. "Well. Since you are here, we might as well be productive. I'm going to get us something to eat." With that, he left, firmly putting the conversation to an end. Tamaki slumped back against the sofa with a sigh. It was rare that he and Kyouya came to disagreements, or confrontations. _This_ was exactly why.

* * *

Sorry for the short chapter, again. I am...preparing...for, the um, big...finale. Yeah.

Actually, I have no excuse. I just hate belaboring things. Haha. Hope you're still keeping up with me! Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

A/N: In previous chapters, I used the English translation "lord" instead of "tono" for the twins' petname for Tamaki. I've decided to revert back to "tono," because I think it's more fun and I like the way it sounds.

* * *

"Oy," Tamaki whispered, "Haruhi, come here."

She looked at him warily from across the table. "Why?"

He looked hurt. "No reason in particular; I just want the pleasure of your company—some engaging conversation."

"Why do you look so suspicious, then?" she asked. He stifled a groan.

"Mmgh, why is everyone in this club so uncooperative?" he lamented, shooting a glare in Kyouya's direction; the other boy just continued typing away, paying him absolutely no attention. Haruhi sighed and moved around to sit next to Tamaki on the sofa, making sure to keep a good foot between them. He looked pointedly down at the space.

"I don't bite."

"No. But I do," she said meaningfully. He blanched.

"Fine." He pouted for just a moment before moving on. "Haruhi, you're friends with Miho-hime, right?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes at his extravagant forms of address. "Yes."

"I wonder, does she ever talk about the Host Club? Discuss any of its members with you, maybe?" Tamaki asked, his eyes gleaming alarmingly. Haruhi scooted back another inch.

"No, she doesn't talk about you," she said bluntly. Tamaki shook his head.

"No, no, that's not what I—" he stopped, leaping to his feet. "What do you mean, she doesn't talk about me? Why not? Am I not a nice person? Doesn't she like me? I thought—"

"Tono, why are you getting so excited?" Hikaru asked, leaning over the couch, his amber eyes glinting. Tamaki froze in mid-panic, darting a glance over to see if Kyouya was listening. He didn't appear to be…but Tamaki knew that the Shadow King was _very_ tricky.

"Ah, I'm not," Tamaki said lamely, sitting back down again. "I just wondered if she talked about us, that's all. Looking for new customers, and all that."

"Oh?" Haruhi said, curious. "It's not like senpai to be worrying about the mechanics of the club."

"Yeah, that's what Mother's here for," Hikaru grinned. "Speaking of which, Kyouya-senpai's the one Miho prefers, you know."

"She does?!" Tamaki exclaimed, jumping up again—this time almost upsetting the table. "How do you know?"

"Well, the one time she did come to the Club, she spent all her time with Kyouya-senpai," Haruhi remembered. "So I guess it would seem that way."

"Oh." Tamaki sprawled back onto the couch, disappointed. Kyouya had already explained _that_; it was hardly romantic, just something about an eye for an eye. He rolled his own eyes. Neither of them had a romantic bone in their bodies. It was absurd. How was he supposed to work with this?

Haruhi looked at the older boy closely. "Tamaki-senpai, do you like Miho?"

He blinked at her, surprised. "Of course I do."

Haruhi froze. "Oh. I see."

Hikaru narrowed his eyes. "Tono," he began, but Tamaki was shaking his head.

"Is there a reason why I shouldn't?" he asked, puzzled. Haruhi stared at him, and after a moment, Hikaru snickered, ducking behind the couch. Tamaki blinked again. "I don't understand. Is something wrong?"

Haruhi stood up, obviously annoyed. "Never mind," she said, walking away. Tamaki stared after her.

"What? Haruhi? Oy, come back! What did Daddy do?"

"_Daddy_ should try to fix his own problems before he tries to tackle someone else's," Kyouya said sweetly, somehow suddenly standing behind Tamaki. The blond boy jumped.

"Gah! Kyouya!" he protested. He looked after Haruhi again, who was sitting near the window, pointedly looking away, her shoulders stiff and straight. He let out an explosive sigh. "Kyouya, this is your fault! If you hadn't made me promise to keep your stupid secret—"

"Secret?" Five pairs of eyes instantly swiveled over to the pair of juniors.

"Kyouya-senpai has a secret?" Haruhi asked, forgetting her irritation in her curiosity. Honey bounced around with Usa-chan.

"Kyou-chan has many secrets," he said wisely, with a knowing smile, as he twirled around the room. Mori watched him in silence.

"Yes, fine, but which one is this?" the twins asked, looking at Kyouya. He looked back at them all with his usual placid smile.

"I'm getting married."

They stared at him, and then the twins burst out laughing; Honey beamed and turned back to his cake, setting Usa-chan in the privileged place next to him, between him and Takashi. Haruhi rolled her eyes and opened her textbook, grumbling about their ridiculous antics and the waste of time that was the Host Club. Tamaki stared at his friend helplessly. Kyouya smiled.

"Stick to solving your own affairs, Tamaki," Kyouya repeated. "Mother knows best."

Tamaki, however, was not giving up. Later, when the Host Club was open for business and customers were taking up the attention of the other hosts, he snuck up next to Haruhi again.

"Haruhi."

She jumped. "Senpai! Jeez, what is it? Stop skulking around like that."

"Sorry," he said sorrowfully. Then he straightened. He was on a mission!

"Haruhi, you said that Miho-hime knows you're a girl, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, why? She's not going to tell anyone, senpai. Don't freak out or anything."

He huffed. "I am not going to freak out—I don't freak out, do I?" He looked around for someone to appeal to, before remembering that they were all busy—and he was, after all, trying to be stealthy here. Right.

"Never mind that. I trust Miho-hime. What I want to know is, knowing you're a girl and in the Host Club, and that you spend so much time with all of these boys—" he stopped, only now realizing it, but before he could lapse into another tirade Haruhi stepped in to hurry him along.

"Yes? What of it?"

"She never acts…jealous? Concerned? Worried, perhaps?" he asked eagerly. Haruhi snorted.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, senpai," she told him. "Besides, Hikaru was right. I think she does like Kyouya-senpai better than you." To her surprise, though, Tamaki didn't fall into instant chagrin.

"Good, good," he said, rubbing his hands together, his eyes taking on a weird cast. She peered up at him, getting concerned now.

"Senpai…are you feeling all right?"

He blinked. "What? Oh yes, I'm fine. Perfectly dandy. Heh, heh, heh." He smirked.

"Haruhi. Come here, please," Kyouya called. She glanced over and nodded.

"Hai. Coming," she said, giving only one more bemused look at Tamaki before hurrying away to Kyouya. "You needed something?"

"Your customers have just arrived," Kyouya said, gesturing toward the door. "But more importantly, don't spend too much time with him. It's bad for your health." He shifted his glasses higher with one finger. Haruhi stifled a giggle.

"Thank you, Kyouya-senpai," she said, heading for her customers. He only smiled after her. Then he glanced over at Tamaki, who was still hunched over in the corner, rubbing his hands together and muttering excitedly to himself. Kyouya rolled his eyes. That idiot.

"Mori-senpai," he said, addressing the older, silent boy, "would you and Honey-senpai mind taking over Tamaki's customers today? It doesn't seem like he's going to be able to do it."

Mori nodded, just once.

"Is something wrong with Tama-chan?" Honey asked anxiously, craning his neck over the chair to look at Tamaki. "He looks a bit strange today, no?"

"He's ill," Kyouya said calmly. "I'm going to arrange for him to be sent home." His cell phone was already out, his long fingers slipping deftly over the familiar buttons.

"Really? Tama-chan is sick? But he doesn't exactly look sick, does he?" Honey looked up at his cousin, who shrugged.

Kyouya only smiled. Then, as if on cue, the elusive twin doors in the back of the room appeared, and both of them slammed open at once, making a terrible sound. Everyone in the room turned to look as a huge shadow poured out of the open doorway; an ominous, menacing laughter boomed in the background.

"Suou Tamaki…Suou Tamaki…someone is haunting you…" soft voice whispered, threading easily through the sudden silence. Tamaki's face had gone deathly pale; he froze, his violet eyes huge.

"Wh…what…what?!" he cried, backing away as the shadow slunk closer.

"Suou Tamaki…Suou Tamaki…"

"Ahhh!!" The girls in the room ran screaming for the door; Tamaki stood, motionless, his face completely drained of color—or any trace of sentience. At that moment, three professional looking men in suits and sunglasses stepped into the room. The shadow vanished; the double doors of the Black Magic Club snapped back into the wall, leaving no trace of their existence. The hosts stared.

"Kyouya-san?" Aijima said, looking at his young master.

"As you can see, he needs to be taken home right away," Kyouya said mildly, gesturing toward his friend, who was still shaking. "He's very ill. Shaking." He shook his head in sympathy. Honey and Mori, however, were looking at Kyouya.

"T-t-terrifying," Honey whispered, clutching Usa-chan tightly.

"Mmm," Mori said.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry!!! I know it's been a while since the last update, but I'm swamped with school – being a TA takes a lot of time, what with all the teaching and grading, and I have to do all that AND take my own classes, and a thousand other things…so it's all very tiring, and I do a lot of sleeping (and EATING) in my limited free time. I do have occasional thoughts here and there of Kyouya, but that gets pushed out a lot (not to mention I sort of hit a dead end for a while…sad face). Add to that the fact that I got hooked on Prince of Tennis for a while (I read the entire manga series…so awesome…then I watched all of the anime—well until the most recently released episodes, of course—which was also very awesome), and fell in love with Tezuka and Fuji and, unexpectedly, Oishi (he's so sweet!), so that kind of got all jumbled up in my head. Bottom line, I finally cranked out this chapter (after a long and grueling session of homework…sigh) and thought I'd at least let everyone know that yes, I'm still alive, and yes, I'm still planning on finishing this story at some point. Ideally, I would've had the Halloween masquerade ball chapter (which is still to come at this point, haha) up before the actual holiday this year, but…that didn't happen. Sorry. Still, thanks for sticking with me! Hope you enjoy the –relatively short—chapter, and um, keep those reviews coming…they remind me that this story is still floating around, and inspire me to finish faster.

**Chapter Eight**

Tamaki made it back to school the next day, but he still appeared a bit shaken, and wouldn't go near the back wall of the third music room during Host Club hours. Kyouya was amused—indeed, he was perpetually amused—and figured that Tamaki would stay out of trouble—at least for the time being. And Tamaki did lie low for a few days, surreptitiously casting a glance at the Shadow King every now and again, to see if he was still under surveillance. He was.

But eventually Kyouya grew distracted, and Tamaki grew brave, and one morning four days later, he slipped into Class 10A before school officially started, hoping to find a certain girl there. He was in luck; Miho was sitting in her seat, reading a book of Rilke's poems—in the original German, of course.

"Miho-hime! I'm so glad I found you," he gushed, dashing over to her. There were only a few other students in the class, mostly guys, so there was only a minimal amount of excited gasps in the background. Miho looked up and smiled.

"Senpai. What are you doing here? Haruhi-kun isn't here yet, if that's who you're looking for."

Tamaki didn't miss the way she casually stepped around calling Haruhi a boy—or a girl, and he smiled broadly.

"Oh, I'll see Haruhi later; I came to see you!"

A single eyebrow rose.

"Voudriez-vous parler? Mais, la classe, elle commence bientôt…"

"Of course, I know, but I just had to ask you something…it's been on my mind, you see," he said tragically, biting his lip. "Miho-hime, you…you must think I'm inane, don't you?"

She blinked, and he could see the hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "I do not."

"Ridiculous? Absurd? Repetitious, tiresome?" he pressed.

"No," she replied, laughing now. "I don't understand…have I done something to give you that impression? It was unconsciously done, I assure you."

Tamaki shook his head emphatically.

"But then _why_, Miho-hime? Why is it that, the one single time you came to visit us at the Host Club, you talked only with Kyouya, and not I?" He dashed a hand dramatically across his eyes, anguished, although he couldn't help but peek to see if she was properly apologetic. Drat, she was still only smiling. He pressed the case.

"Why do you like Kyouya better? He's…he's not even nice!" _There_, Tamaki thought with satisfaction. That'll get a confession out of her, and then I can use that to convince Kyouya—

"You're right, he's not, is he?" she agreed. Tamaki nodded fervently.

"No, you should hear what he—" he caught himself just in time. "Em. I mean, that is…" _Drat. _This was precisely why he normally let Kyouya do these sorts of things. "Well, I mean, he does have _some_ redeeming qualities," he said lamely. Miho shook her head.

"No, you're absolutely right," she said decidedly, giving him her sunniest smile. "Next time I make it to the Host Club, I'll come straight to you! It'll be lovely, won't it? It's too bad I never have enough time."

Okay, Tamaki thought, as he gave her a weak smile, time to change tactics.

"Well, but, you're coming to our masquerade ball, of course!"

She smiled. "Yes. It should be fun…and it's so soon already. Just next week."

"Yes, we're so busy with preparations," Tamaki said, beaming at her once again. "And what is your lovely costume going to be?" _I can make Kyouya wear something that complements it! Ah-ha! Grand scheme!_

"I thought the whole point of it was to hide your identity," Miho said, smiling again. "So it'll be a surprise, won't it?"

Tamaki stared at her in consternation. This was as frustrating as trying to get something out of…Kyouya. He groaned. _Irony_.

"Oh ho ho," he laughed loudly, "of course, of course! That's the whole point, of course. Well, okay, have a nice day, I'll see you then!" And without another moment's delay, he disappeared. Miho laughed.

He walked back to 11A, grumbling all the while, but stopped short when he saw Kyouya sitting in the classroom, reading _Faust_. The other boy glanced up as Tamaki took his seat.

"Troubles?" Kyouya asked mildly. Tamaki shook his head.

"Nope. Nothing. Just talking to myself."

"You should be more pleasant, then," Kyouya said, and returned to his book. Tamaki breathed a sigh of relief. Then he thought of something.

"Kyouya."

"Mmm?" the other boy didn't even look up.

"When's your banquet again?"

"Next month. Why?"

"I'll need to get a new suit."

"It's not _your_ engagement," Kyouya replied, amused, his eyes never leaving the page. Tamaki looked confused.

"What's your point?"

"Never mind."

A moment passed, and then Tamaki thought of something else.

"Kyouya."

He waited for a response, but got nothing. He continued anyway.

"Is your costume ready?"

That got a reaction: Kyouya rolled his eyes. "By which you mean, is _your_ costume also ready?"

Tamaki grinned. "Is it, then? Wonderful! When can we try them on?"

Kyouya sighed. "We're doing a fitting this afternoon during club hours."

Tamaki beamed. "You think of everything."

Kyouya let that pass.

"We're going to look magnificent!" Tamaki predicted, exuberant now. He looked slyly over at Kyouya. "And you'll dance with your lady, of course."

"There will be time enough for that later, I imagine," the other boy replied. Tamaki glared at him.

"Kyouya, what is wrong with you? You should be seizing every opportunity to win her heart! She's a princess! And if ever there was a time to use your Host Club skills, it's now, don't you think?"

Kyouya refused to put his book down, but upon Tamaki's insistent wheedling, he finally looked up.

"They don't work on her," he said, his voice utterly expressionless. Tamaki blinked.

"What?"

"These 'skills' you're ranting about," Kyouya replied, his eyes flashing once behind his glasses. "Which, by the way aren't really skills, you realize—our appeal is just a result of our looks and willingness to stick to a preconceived 'type' of person that appeals to a select crowd of female students."

Tamaki waved that off. "Yes, yes, I know, we are beautiful…but what do you mean, they don't work? She's always charmed by _my_ dashing good looks, my pure affections…what are you doing wrong?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

Kyouya rolled his eyes again.

"Well forgive me, but for one thing, I'm not _supposed_ to be like you—and couldn't live with myself if I were," Kyouya muttered; Tamaki's lower lip quivered, and Kyouya sighed. "Never mind, Tamaki."

"No," Tamaki said, suddenly decisive. "Even if you are the cool type, you're still a popular Host. Of course she should fall in love with you."

"Well, maybe she didn't get the memo," Kyouya said, and now there was just the faintest hint of irritation in his voice. Tamaki considered that. It seemed, that without even trying to, he had hit the problem square on the head. Kyouya, who could predict everyone's actions based on careful assessment of their motives, ambitions, desires, and personality, was unusually efficient in his interactions with people because he understood them completely, and could therefore calculate how best to treat them to obtain the desired result or reaction. Once he could peg someone's character, he wrote it all down and tucked it away into his secret files, confident that he could manipulate each person accordingly, should the need arise. Miho's file, though, was still open, still incomplete. He couldn't write her off as one type or another because she didn't respond to him the way others did; he was annoyed because he couldn't "win" her like he did all the other girls…she wasn't instantly charmed like the adults, or awed by him like the other boys. Which meant that Kyouya had to keep trying to understand her, to get her characteristics down, and that meant he had to expend more effort than usual…something that was guaranteed to aggravate him. Tamaki smiled unexpectedly. Perhaps there was still hope; if she could annoy Kyouya, at least she had captured his interest, whether it was voluntary on his part or no. There was still a chance.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Still busy with school, but tomorrow's a holiday and I thought I'd unwind with a bit of fanfic writing…hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint. I'm not sure how many more I've got tucked away in my head, but it shouldn't be too many more. Thanks for sticking with me and being so patient! Much love.

**Chapter Nine**

Miho was at the mall again. This time she was sitting in the food court, eating frozen yogurt and idly watching passersby; there was an open notebook in front of her, and from time to time she'd scribble some random thought or observation down, but mostly she was just enjoying the free time. It was true that she could probably get very expensive frozen yogurt with very expensive, fresh, organic etc. etc. toppings at some chic, elite shop somewhere, but she liked the atmosphere here. Malls were crowded and noisy and rather dirty, sure, and that was annoying sometimes, but she liked the anonymity of the place.

She was just scraping the last spoonful of her green tea yogurt out of the cup when a muted buzzing sound caught her attention, and she realized her phone was going off. She glanced at the screen and grinned, sliding the phone open and bringing it to her ear.

"Hideki!"

"You idiot." As greetings went, it wasn't exactly cheerful, but her brother's tone was more exasperated than truly angry. Miho laughed.

"What now?" she asked, still grinning.

"Well, let's see. This morning I received a phone call from our father, telling me that he has made arrangements for me to fly home in a few weeks. At first, I was rather annoyed—I am perfectly capable of doing these things on my own—"

"Last year you almost didn't make it home for New Year's," Miho pointed out. "If I recall correctly, _someone_ only _thought_ he bought a ticket home, but actually forgot…Father had to send one of our jets out there especially for you. He was very annoyed."

Hideki snorted.

"It was an honest mistake. And how many times can that really happen?"

"Do you really want an answer, or is that a rhetorical question?" Miho asked dryly. He ignored her.

"Anyhow. Then I realized that he scheduled a flight for me in the middle of November, and I couldn't think of any reason why I should be home—it's the middle of the semester. So I asked if there was any particular reason for this sudden trip, or if he just decided he missed me too much. And you know what he told me?"

_Ah,_ Miho thought. She had been waiting for this. Her brother's voice had taken on a dangerous tone, and though there wasn't any real possibility that he would be angry with her—they had always gotten along very well, and she missed him while he was away at school in America—she knew that he would be hurt that she hadn't told him earlier. And she had meant to…but somehow she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

"I could probably guess," she admitted.

"You probably could," he agreed. "Miho, why didn't you tell me? You've known for what, almost a month now? I know you can use a phone. And a computer. Or snail mail, if it comes to that. But you let _our father _tell me?"

She shrugged, even knowing that he couldn't see her—it was merely a reflex.

"What would that have done? It's not like you could've changed anything, Hideki, and you would've been angry with our parents, and that's not really something you need to be dealing with during medical school right now. You've got enough on your plate."

"The dead bodies I can handle," Hideki said dryly. "It's live _people_ I can't stand. Miho, are you sure about this? I had it out with dad on the phone—it didn't change anything, of course, but _I_ felt better afterward."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's fine, Hideki. Are you jealous 'cause they've arranged my marriage first? Or are you just worried about being in-laws with the Ootoris?" she laughed, trying to make light of the situation. Her brother wasn't ready to give up yet, though.

"Yes, that was my first concern," he drawled. "Miho—"

"I can understand that you're annoyed with me for not telling you, and you're right, I should've," Miho interrupted. "I thought maybe Father had told you about it when he stopped over in California and saw you on his way back from Germany and New York, but then I realized that he hadn't—or else I would've gotten this angry phone call a lot sooner."

"That's when this deal was made?" her brother asked, his voice flat.

"Yeah," Miho replied. "I always thought it was amusing that Japanese businessmen fly to Europe and America to have meetings…with other Japanese businessmen."

"Wonderful," Hideki said. "Father dragged me out of bed at 6:30 am on a Saturday to have breakfast with him…and he conveniently forgot to mention this little tidbit."

"Well, if he had told you then, he would've told you before he even got to me, and that's a little unfair, don't you think?" Miho pointed out. Her brother grunted.

"Fine. But Miho—"

"What, Hideki? What do you want me to say? You can't honestly be surprised…it was only a matter of time before I became engaged to _someone_—most girls at my age, in similar circumstances, have been betrothed to someone for as long as they can remember. We're liabilities, us daughters…we have to be gotten rid of at some point, you know, and they might as well get the most out of the marriage. In that respect, I think Father did rather well, don't you?" Her voice was sharper than she had intended, she realized.

"You _are _angry," her brother said, and though he had been proven right, his voice was more regretful than triumphant. She sighed.

"At the circumstances, yes, a little; how could I not be? But it's not anything shocking—it was always a certainty, this whole arranged marriage thing. In order to live as we do, we have responsibilities and duties and blah blah blah…in retrospect it seems I was more than a little naïve, don't you think? I should've seen this coming—I'm already sixteen. And if I must be engaged to someone, well, why not the son of one of the richest and most powerful men in Japan? Should be a riot."

"Without a doubt," her brother replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Father spoils you, Miho—and I'm not being critical of it, because I do it too. But Ootori Yoshio is a very different sort of man, who will expect his daughter-in-law to be proper, to follow all the rules of society and of his household. Do you really think Kyouya will protect you from his father?"

"Why should he have to?" Miho asked. "If I'm the model wife and daughter-in-law that I'm supposed to be, then what cause will his father have to be displeased with me?"

"And you're prepared to be that model daughter-in-law?" Hideki said dubiously.

"There's six years for that," Miho replied. "Or something."

"Uh huh," her brother replied. "Says the girl who is currently—if my ears do not deceive me—sitting in the commoner mall food court."

"Good frozen yogurt," she said. "Absolutely superb."

"Miho—"

"Hideki. I have enough people hounding me about this."

That surprised him.

"You do? Who?"

_Damn_. She regretted that; now she would have to explain. She sighed again.

"Well, it's not that anyone's pressuring me or anything…after he told me about it, Father pretty much left me to my own devices and basically said any happiness that I might get out of this…_arrangement_ is purely in my hands. But I've had visits from Kyouya's older sister, and his best friend—and you know, now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure how Tamaki found out about it, because Kyouya's not really the open, sharing type."

"You just said they're best friends," Hideki pointed out.

"That doesn't have anything to do with it—Kyouya's a secretive sort of fellow to begin with, and the official announcements haven't come out yet—they come out in a couple of days. He wouldn't give the game away before then…not that there's any real reason not to, I guess, but…that's just the way he is."

"I didn't realize you were already so well acquainted," her brother said with sudden amusement. "It seems I'm worrying for nothing."

"Oh yeah, we're best friends. I think we've spoken for a total of, oh…three times?" Miho said wryly. "But I'm already sick of hearing _about_ him. His sister and Tamaki are all concerned that I won't like him, that I'll disapprove of him or _something_, I don't know what, maybe they think I'll hurt his feelings or something……and you know, really, I don't think Kyouya's all that sensitive. Or that he cares at all about what I think."

"More the fool," Hideki remarked, but there was definite good humor in his voice now.

"That is the last thing he is," Miho said dryly. "I don't know, Hideki. It feels like everyone's getting so worked up so _early._ It's not like we're getting married tomorrow, after all. There are at least six years for us to get acquainted—if we even _want_ to, I suppose…plenty of marriages work out just fine without any real intimacy between husband and wife, it seems."

"That's true, but is that really how you want your life to turn out?" Hideki asked, utterly serious now.

"No one expects this to be a fairy tale," Miho replied. Hideki gave an exasperated laugh.

"You have absolutely no romance whatsoever, do you?"

"Probably not, no," she admitted.

"It's true that you have six years to get to know each other," her brother continued. "But think about it—the sooner you do, the more time you get to actually enjoy each other's company. Less awkwardness when the marriage finally happens…and maybe even a chance at true happiness."

"You're breaking my heart," Miho said. "True happiness? Seriously, Hideki?"

He laughed again. "Okay, okay. But you know what I mean."

"Well, but what if we end up hating each other? That just means we end up hating each other sooner rather than later."

"Good attitude," he said. She laughed, in spite of herself.

"I try."

"Okay, sis…well, I actually have to run now, gotta study for yet another fantastic exam. But I'll call you soon, okay? Keep your chin up."

"Thanks for the brotherly advice," she told him. "Good luck with the test."

"Hah. Later, Miho."

"Bye."

He hung up, and she set down her phone again, leaning back with a sigh. She absently realized that she was hungry again, and looked over at the Starbucks in the corner of the food court. She wasn't a fan of big corporate chains (haha, irony, yes, she knew), but she really did enjoy lattes, and there weren't any cute coffee shops in the mall. She slid her phone back into her purse and picked up her bag and her empty yogurt cup, intending to head over to grab some coffee—but she didn't quite make it.

"Miho!"

She turned at the sound of her name, surprised; she couldn't think of anyone she knew that would be here, except—

"Haruhi!" she said, smiling. "How are you?"

Haruhi smiled back at her. "I'm fine, of course…but…I didn't know you came to this mall."

Miho grinned. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

Haruhi blinked. "Oh, no, I didn't mean…I just thought…well, I just meant that I've never seen you here before."

"I like to come to the bookstore," Miho explained. "And I like frozen yogurt." She held up the empty cup to demonstrate. Then she surveyed Haruhi.

"And may I say, your outfit is a definite improvement on your school uniform," she added, grinning. Haruhi glanced down at her own clothing and made a face—she was dressed in a pink jumper with sandals and a cream-colored sweater; twin pink butterflies were clipped in her hair. There was no mistake that she was a girl.

"But you already knew, didn't you?" Haruhi said. Miho laughed.

"True. And you're not likely to see anyone else from school here, so I think you're safe."

"I don't think I'd really mind if people found out," Haruhi mused, "although I guess that might make things at the Host Club a little strange. But it's true that I've never seen anyone else from school here—well, except for the Host Club," she corrected, rolling her eyes. Miho looked at her curiously.

"The Host Club members come here?"

Haruhi sighed.

"Tamaki's fascinated with 'commoner' culture," she explained, rolling her eyes again with a look of extreme exasperation. "He drags us all out here every other weekend or so, and spends hours dashing around the mall. It's tiring, and I really don't need to see this mall quite so often."

Miho laughed. "That sounds like Tamaki-senpai," she agreed. "But I'm surprised that the entire club comes out here…it doesn't seem like something the twins would agree to."

Haruhi shrugged. "They don't seem to mind. The one who's the most annoyed is Kyouya-senpai, I think, but he suffers silently for the most part. He's used to Tamaki's wild impulses." She paused. "But actually, I'm with the Host Club now—I just came this way to use the bathroom in the food court. We're going to have lunch soon, did you want to join us?"

Miho smiled and shook her head.

"No, I should be heading home soon. I only came out for a little while; I have a few other things to do, and other errands to run."

"Oh, I see," Haruhi said. She was silent a moment, and then she looked up at Miho again.

"Miho…I was wondering, though…do you really like Kyouya-senpai?"

Miho managed to look surprised.

"What makes you ask that?" she said, with a half-smile. Haruhi shrugged.

"It's just that you've only come to the Host Club once, specifically to talk to Kyouya-senpai. I was just wondering if there was some reason for it."

"Ah. No, our parents do business together—they're both in the big corporate medicine fields," Miho said smoothly. "I just wanted to ask him about some things—get an opinion from another corporation president's kid, especially one with Kyouya's reputation of knowledge and experience."

"Oh," Haruhi said, believing her completely. "That makes sense." She considered that. "It must be difficult, to be in such a position. Everyone at Ouran usually seems so carefree about things like money, so sometimes I forget that there's a lot of responsibility and work that goes behind all the power and prestige and wealth."

Miho made a face. "It's not so bad, I guess. We're brought up to expect it, so we're used to it."

Haruhi nodded. "But still. I mean, you have to learn how to run these big companies, and do all this social networking, and then there are all these rules of etiquette and propriety—and the whole arranged marriage thing, which I'm not sure I could handle, honestly."

Miho suppressed a groan. Was _everyone_ conspiring against her?

"Oh, it's not so bad," she said lightly. Haruhi blinked.

"Oh, are you already engaged too, Miho? I'm sorry, I didn't know."

_Aiya. _Miho smiled brightly.

"Ah, I just meant that it's expected of us, and most arranged marriages work out fairly well."

"I suppose so, and even marriages based on love sometimes end in divorce," Haruhi agreed. "But just the fact that you don't have any choice in the matter…it seems hard, to me."

Miho took a breath. "Well, it is, I guess," she said finally. "And it's difficult that one of the most important things in your life is controlled by someone else. But there are small satisfactions, I guess. After all, if the marriage doesn't turn out well, it's not _my_ fault, right?" she joked. Haruhi frowned.

"But is that really a satisfaction? I would think it would be a better…revenge, if you would, if your marriage turned out spectacularly, against all odds. Don't you think?" she smiled. Miho looked at her, her expression thoughtful.

"There's some merit to that idea," she said, after a moment. "But those are very large odds stacked against you."

Haruhi smiled again. "That would make an unexpected success even better, wouldn't it?"

Miho didn't say anything to that; she was thinking. Haruhi glanced down at her watch, and blanched.

"Oh no, I've been gone for twenty minutes already, they'll have wandered down the entire length of the mall by now! I'll have to find them."

Miho shook herself out of her reverie and reached in her purse for her phone.

"Do you have a cell phone, Haruhi? I can call one of them, if you want—"

Haruhi shook her head and held up a slim phone.

"I have one, thanks."

Miho nodded. "Hey, I don't think I have your number," she realized.

"Well this phone's actually on lend from the twins," the other girl explained. Miho laughed.

"I don't think they're ever going to demand it back, Haruhi," she said. Haruhi rolled her eyes.

"No, probably not. Here, give me your number," she said. Miho gave it to her, and they both grinned at each other.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow," Haruhi said. Miho blinked.

"But tomorrow's Saturday. (A/N: they're here…afterschool? :P too bad)"

"Yes. The masquerade ball." Haruhi gave her a long-suffering look. "I can't promise how it'll turn out, but the twins and Tamaki-senpai are excited. And Honey too, I think."

"But not Kyouya or Mori-senpai?" Miho asked, faintly amused. Haruhi shrugged.

"Who can tell, with those two?"

Miho laughed. "Who, indeed. Well then, you're right. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing the Host Club's costumes—I hear they're always so extravagant."

"They are," Haruhi grumbled. "Okay, I've gotta run. See you later, Miho."

"Yes. Have fun."

Haruhi waved and dashed off, almost crashing into an elderly woman carrying a tray of food. Miho smiled to herself as she watched the other girl apologize frantically before sprinting off again.

_Now, what was I doing again?_ She wondered, and then she remembered. _Ah. Right. Coffee._


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Here you go! A long chapter, to make up for all the short ones recently. We finally made it to the masquerade ball…hopefully you enjoy it! Just a few more to go! Oh yes, and thanks for all the reviews! They make my day!

**Chapter Ten**

The massive school ballroom was completely—and extravagantly—decorated, the food was ready, the students were all lined up outside and ready to enter; everything suggested that the evening was going to be a huge success—at least in terms of profit and the Host Club's reputation—but Kyouya was not pleased. Oh, he smiled gallantly at everyone when the grand doors were finally thrown open to welcome the crowds, and many a girl sighed dreamily when he passed them, wearing his usual cool expression, his slate gray eyes mysterious and secretive behind his glasses. He bowed courteously to each guest, and listened as they enthused over the décor; he did have to admit that they might have outdone themselves this time, with their castle in the air motif, suited to their costume theme of Greek gods. The ballroom was made to look exactly like some dreamscape castle—Olympus, as it were—with floaty gauze and clouds and gold and silver everywhere. What made it even more interesting was that half of the ballroom was decorated as night, with dark tones and hues and silver stars against a dark sky, whilst the other half was glorious as sunrise, with milky pastels and soft smears of gold, like sunshine against the walls. It was extravagant without being excessive, and it seemed like it had been a good choice, judging by all of the guests' awed expressions. Kyouya filed the observation away in his head; it might be interesting to try something similar later on in the year at the Host Club.

But even though he greeted each guest with an equal show of pleasure and graciousness, tonight, the Shadow King was not as inwardly serene as he seemed. Without meaning to, his eyes scanned the crowd for someone in particular, even though he had no idea of knowing what he was even looking for. He had not talked to Miho for about a week, since her car had of course been speedily repaired, and there was no longer any reason for him to take her home. It wasn't exactly that he missed her company; rather, their afterschool conversations were at least an interaction, an opportunity for him to try to understand this Shinotsuka Miho. But she was never exactly forthcoming with information about herself, and she seemed quite adept at avoiding anything that might implicate herself one way or the other. She was polite, and cool, and perpetually amused, and he could not get any sort of rise out of her—never an unregulated response, never an impulsive reply. And now those chances, unfruitful as they were, were gone completely. He had even gone so far as to consider sabotaging her car—well, arranging to have it done, of course, but it amounted to the same thing, didn't it?—but he quickly shook himself of that idea: when had he ever had to resort to such inelegant solutions?

He didn't. But now he had no idea what her costume might be, and thus he could not seek her out—couldn't keep an eye out for her. It wasn't that he felt that she should be watched; rather, he simply disliked being at any sort of tactical disadvantage. As a host of the evening, he was instantly recognized, and anyone would know who he was. Miho could see him, could watch him, and he would never know it. He doubted that she would choose to employ her time in such a manner, but then, you never knew, did you, and Kyouya preferred not to be surprised if he could help it.

So he decided to ferret her out, in the easiest way possible. He made his way silently through the crowd until he found Haruhi, standing uncomfortably next to a pillar, seemingly trying to make herself as small as possible—or blend in with the shadow of the pillar, he wasn't quite sure.

"You _will_ have to dance eventually, you know," he murmured as he came up behind her. She jumped about a foot into the air and then turned around, wearing a sheepish expression.

"Senpai! I wish you would all stop doing that," she complained. Kyouya gave an elegant shrug.

"You should be more alert, then," he remarked. She made a face.

"Never mind," he said. "I was actually wondering if you've seen Shinotsuka Miho yet this evening."

Haruhi frowned. "Miho? No, not yet. Why?"

He pushed his glasses up with a slender finger. "I am afraid the twins may have something planned for her…it seems they still have not quite forgiven her for being more perceptive than they are."

Haruhi groaned. "Still? I swear those two are impossible."

Kyouya shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps I am just being overcautious—"

"No such thing, with those two," Haruhi muttered. "I'm going right over there to tell them—"

Kyouya turned his all-too familiar cool smile upon her.

"Oh, I don't know that we need to go that far, Haruhi. It could be interesting."

"Senpai!" she protested. He raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I wouldn't let them ruin the club's reputation, so she could hardly come to any harm," he reminded her. "I just want you to keep an eye out for her, so that I may be aware of everything _before_ it happens."

She didn't look convinced, but she reluctantly agreed—after all, it's not like she really had much of a choice. There was never any doubt as to who _really_ ran the show in the Host Club. Dear old Mother.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out for her, senpai," Haruhi told him. "I think I know what her costume is, if I remember correctly."

"Oh? Something intriguing, no doubt," he said mildly.

"Yes, it's…oh." Haruhi frowned. "Actually, I don't remember." She shook her head. "But I'll look for her anyway. I don't want the twins creating any trouble."

"Good," Kyouya murmured, his gray eyes slewing over to rest on her. "I would hate to have any sort of commotion ruin the evening." He looked meaningfully out into the crowd. "Apology bouquets on this scale would be…expensive."

Haruhi blanched. "Ah, you know what, I'll go look for her now," she said hastily, and fled. Kyouya chuckled, and leaned back into the shadow of the pillar himself, coolly surveying the crowd. The senpais were both dancing, Honey doing a joyous rig with a delighted freshman girl, and Mori silently moving through a more stately version with a quiet—but radiantly blushing—junior girl. Kyouya was amused to see that Honey's wings—he was Eros, of course, who else?—weren't at all getting in the way as the ever-practical Haruhi had predicted; Honey moved effortlessly through the dance with the practice ease of an accomplished martial athlete. Mori-senpai, who was supposed to be the lame-legged Hephaestus, was doing equally well, an accurate depiction of the taciturn—but kind—god of the forge. Well, except that Hephaestus was supposed to have been hideously unattractive, Kyouya mused, but one simply couldn't tell Tamaki that.

His attention fell elsewhere, on the distant corner of the room where he could see Tamaki sweeping gallantly around the room, bold and radiant as the exquisite sun god, Apollo. Lyrical, poetical, eternally youthful and honest, the god of light and music had been Tamaki's automatic choice, and Kyouya had to admit that the guise suited him well. Tamaki was robed in white and gold, and as they had all opted to put a more medieval spin on the clothing rather than subject themselves to togas, he managed to look resplendent and regal rather than silly. Kyouya was glad of that; his own clothing mirrored Tamaki's in cut and style, though the colors were completely opposite—Kyouya wore a well-coordinated mix of dark gray, purple, and black, with silver accents here and there, and black boots.

"Hardly the place for a Host, these shadowy depths," a soft voice slipped into his thoughts. He looked up sharply, remembering that he was on the night side of the room, and that, dressed as he was, he probably blended in quite nicely with the décor and shadows. _Looks like I didn't need to set Haruhi to the task after all,_ Kyouya thought absently, his eyes on the figure before him. A girl stood there, dressed elegantly in a silk kimono of dark purple, the skirt tastefully embroidered on the left side with a spray of flowers in the same hue, and wide sleeves falling gracefully around her wrists. A pale mask covered her the top half of her face—it reminded him of a Noh mask, though the traditional Japanese masks usually covered one's entire face. Her hair—it must be a wig, he realized, since her own hair was much shorter—fell to waist length, straight and dark, and there were two amethyst-encrusted hairsticks slipped into it at the top of her head.

"Lady Murasaki," Kyouya said with a slight smile, bowing elegantly.

"I suppose the wisterias give it away," Miho replied, touching the embroidery deprecatingly with the fan she carried in her left hand, its chain slipped loosely around her wrist. "If you can recognize them, that is."

There was a slight edge to her voice; he could not tell whether that had been intended as a compliment or an insult, so he ignored it.

"Quite beautiful," he said, ever the gallant host.

"I liked it well enough, though now that I'm here I realized that I should have dressed as a man," she said lightly. "Less attention, and," she continued, gesturing toward his own costume, "a much more comfortable outfit. I envy Haruhi."

"But I would have looked quite odd, then," he said, "dancing with another man." He held a black-gloved hand out to her, inclining his head ever so slightly, a dignified offer.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice ever so faintly teasing. "After all, this night may be the last chance to dance with someone else, I suspect…better make the most of it."

"Are you advising me, or excusing yourself?" he asked coolly. She laughed.

"They aren't necessarily exclusive."

"My offer stands."

Her eyes glinted behind her demure mask, and then she moved forward to place her bare hand gingerly in his proffered gloved one, the silk of her gown rustling as she moved. It did not escape either of them that they were dressed in similar hues of plum and black, though the styles were of course widely different.

"I trust you've been well," Kyouya said conversationally, as they eased into the new song that the—live, of course—musicians were playing, a regal waltz with melodic violin strains and the smooth current of cellos. She nodded.

"Yes. And you, as well? Since our last conversation oh, a week ago?"

Was that amusement or an accusation in her voice?

"You keep track? I'm flattered," he replied.

"Of course," she said, a smile lingering at the edge of her lips. "I always look forward to talking with you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"It's like a game," she explained. "I always try to see if I can say anything to surprise you. I don't think there's anything that will."

He looked at her for a moment, considering.

"You're already married."

That surprised a laugh out of her, but she said nothing further, only smiled at him—a warm, open smile, one meant to deliberately provoke him, he suspected. He ignored it.

"I hope everything tonight suits your tastes?" he said instead, extending his arm so that she could pirouette gracefully under it. She spun slowly and turned back to him.

"Of course. It's all very splendid. But then, I'm not so picky," she acknowledged. His eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses.

"No, you would settle for anything, wouldn't you?" he murmured near her ear as he led her into another turn.

"And yet I get the very best," she said, and there was just the hint of an edge to her voice, though she didn't meet his eyes as she turned. "It comes of being born into _privilege _such as this, I suppose."

"Indeed," Kyouya agreed blandly. "Surely you're enjoying yourself?"

"Immensely," she replied. "The costumes were a fun idea, I must admit. I'm enjoying it more than I thought I would—there's a kind of power in not being instantly recognized, isn't there? Oh, but I guess that's not something you're used to," she amended. Kyouya arched an eyebrow; he was almost amused by her boldness.

"Of course, all I meant was, even though you have a costume, as a host you can't have the same degree of anonymity," Miho said, smiling. He acknowledged the comment with a slight bow.

"This is true."

She glanced around. "I do like the Host Club's theme, though. Tamaki-senpai makes an excellent Apollo, I think. And Honey-senpai is perfectly cast, as well." She paused. "Where are the twins? I haven't seen them yet."

Kyouya shrugged. "They are breezing about, no doubt, like the wind gods that they are."

"Ah, Castor and Pollux—the Greek god twins who are the basis for the Gemini constellation? That's an obscure one," Miho remarked. Kyouya favored her with an enigmatic smile.

"You're well read," he said mildly. "It comes from time wisely spent in bookstores, I suppose." He eyed her. "Well, that's five of seven. Have you seen Haruhi yet?"

Miho smiled, with real warmth this time.

"I have—she looked unhappy, or at least, overwhelmed. It's really unfair to force her into this kind of thing, you know—she wasn't raised to expect it, or trained to deal with these kinds of events."

"She adapts well," Kyouya replied. "And I don't think she really minds, actually."

"Perhaps not," Miho agreed, "but how on earth did you get her to agree to be Hermes? It hardly suits her character—well, there are some aspects of it that are perfect, like his famed intuition, but Hermes was altogether a bit more flamboyant than Haruhi, don't you think?"

Kyouya smiled at that. "Yes. That one was my choice, though."

"Oh?" It was Miho's turn to arch an eyebrow.

"Yes," Kyouya continued. "Simply because, in one famous myth, Hermes…charms Apollo."

Miho stared at him for a moment, and then she laughed.

"Bravo," she murmured. "Bravo."

Kyouya's cool eyes settled on her.

"That's six, then. I presume you've guessed who I am?"

Her half-smile returned. "Who you are, or who you're supposed to be?"

"Both, either." He paused. "Although that is an interesting distinction."

She considered him a moment, as if thinking.

"Hero or villain?" she asked finally. A cool smile crossed his lips.

"Neither, but something in between."

He guided her regally through the last turn; the song was ending, its last strains lingering in the air. She withdrew her hand; he let her go.

"Really," she said softly, stepping away from him. "How remarkable… that is also exactly how I would have described Hades." Then she was gone, walking slowly away back into the crowd. Kyouya looked after her for only a moment, unaware that he was also being watched.

Haruhi faded back into the shadows, looking for Tamaki. She finally located him near the stairs, and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.

"Haruhi!" he exclaimed, beaming at her. She shook her head.

"Senpai," she said slowly, "is there a reason for Kyouya and Miho to dislike each other?"

"Dislike?" Tamaki repeated, horrified. "What do you mean?"

Haruhi frowned. "I just saw them dancing, and I overheard some of what they said…it was a tense kind of thing."

Tamaki stared at her, and then he seemed to catch himself, and he shook his head. "Kyouya doesn't actively dislike anyone—or at least, doesn't _outwardly_ dislike anyone," he corrected himself. "Maybe you just misunderstood what happened."

"Maybe," Haruhi said doubtfully. "But when I heard them—"

"Heard who?" Kaoru asked, suddenly popping up behind her.

"Eavesdropping is a nasty habit," Hikaru added, leering at her.

"You would know," Haruhi retorted. Hikaru stuck his tongue out at her.

"Who are we talking about?" Kaoru pressed.

"Never mind," Haruhi said, turning to leave, but Tamaki grabbed her arm.

"Are you sure about this, Haruhi?" he asked, looking grave. The twins exchanged an irritated look.

"Sure about what?" they demanded.

"Kyouya," Tamaki said. They stared at him, confused.

"Huh?" Hikaru frowned, craning his neck to scan the crowd for Kyouya. "Where is he, anyway?"

"He was just dancing with Mi-chan!" Honey chimed in, and Haruhi blinked. When had Honey and Mori gotten here?

Two identical sets of eyes narrowed dangerously as the twins turned to Honey.

"Mi-chan? As in, Shinotsuka Miho?" they asked, speaking in unison. Honey nodded, smiling widely.

"That name just keeps popping up, doesn't it?" Hikaru suggested. He and his brother exchanged another glance. "I wonder what it means?"

"You don't suppose—" Kaoru began—they looked at each other. "Nah," they both said at the same time. "Couldn't be."

"What?" Tamaki demanded, alarmed now. He could already predict what was going to happen if the rest of the Host Club found out about Kyouya's engagement before Kyouya was ready to tell them—he, Suou Tamaki, as the only person to know about it, was going to be in a great deal of trouble. He could already hear Nekozawa-senpai's ghostly voice…he shook his head violently, suppressing a shudder.

"What?" he repeated, looking at the twins. They shrugged.

"Could Mommy be keeping secrets from Daddy?" they wondered, glancing up to see how Tamaki was taking it.

"And that would be news how?" Haruhi wanted to know, just as Tamaki said, "Secrets like what?"

"You'd have to ask Kyouya-senpai," the twins replied.

Tamaki shook his head. "No way. Are you trying to get me killed?"

The twins grinned, their own version of the little devil's smile—though Haruhi thought Kyouya's version was about 10000 times scarier.

"Of course not," they assured him, and as comprehension dawned in Tamaki's eyes, Haruhi suddenly found five pairs of eyes staring at her.

"What?" she said, highly uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Oh no, no way," she said, realizing their purpose. "Why am I more expendable?"

"That's just it, you're not," Kaoru assured her. "Kyouya-senpai won't kill you. At least, we don't think he will. We think he's fond of you, somehow. This is a good time to test our theory."

"What?" Haruhi exploded. "Where do you guys come up with th—"

"They're right, Haru-chan," Honey piped in, his tone boyishly sweet. Haruhi stared at the tiny senior. "And if he does get mad anyway, well, Takashi will save you, ne?" Honey continued, looking up at his cousin, who gave a curt nod. "So don't be afraid, Haru-chan!"

Haruhi was beginning to regret that she had ever voiced her concerns—and to Tamaki, of all people! What had she been thinking?

"You're sure you'll save me?" she said, resigning herself.

"Save you from whom?"

They all jumped, turning guiltily to face Kyouya, who stood behind them with an amused expression.

"Really, should you all be collecting here?" he chided mildly. "It _is_ our event, after all, and the guests shouldn't feel neglected."

"Of course!" Tamaki agreed, dashing out into the crowd without looking back. "I must charm all of the ladies, who have been so long deprived of my company!"

"Us too, us too!" Honey said cheerfully, tugging on Mori's hand and pulling him back out onto the dance floor. "I want more cake, don't you Takashi?"

Kyouya smiled indulgently and turned his gaze on the twins, who flashed him huge—and incredibly panicked, Haruhi observed—smiles, and fled.

"Cowards," Haruhi muttered.

"Pardon?" Kyouya said, glancing down at her.

"Ah, nothing," Haruhi said quickly. "I'll just go find a new partner, shall I? Can't have the girls waiting—"

"A moment, Haruhi," Kyouya said; she froze.

"Y-yes?" she looked warily up at him, and he observed her obvious discomfort with some amusement.

"Am I so terrifying?" he said mildly. She gave him a weak smile, and his lips curled in a crooked smile. Then his expression changed—the amusement vanished, and he raised his head slightly, sending the glare of his glasses into her eyes so that she couldn't read the expression in his gray eyes.

"Haruhi, would _you_ marry me?"

"Huh?" she blinked, astounded, before she realized that the words and the question were two different things. Slowly, trying to understand what he meant, she said, "I'm not sure what senpai is asking me."

Kyouya looked at her, his expression thoughtful.

"No, you wouldn't," he agreed. "Never mind, Haruhi. Go dance."

She nodded, and left, leaving Kyouya to his thoughts, alone in the shadows of the hall.

* * *

A/N: Lady Murasaki is from Japanese literature...both an author and a character. Google her if you're interested :) "murasaki" is wisteria, a type of purple flower.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Okay, I'm so sorry, this is a really short chapter, but I think we're finally racing toward that ending, which will be up sometime in the next…um…year? Haha. I'm now swamped with school work and teaching duties and research, so this is really slow going. Thanks for being so patient, and I promise I will try to wrap up soon!!!

**Chapter Eleven**

Haruhi may have understood that Kyouya was not really asking her for her hand in marriage—rather, he was asking her for an opinion. Someone else, however, was not so insightful.

"KYOUYA!!!" Tamaki howled. The blonde Host Club King rounded on his best friend, his eyes wide with shock. Kyouya stifled a groan as heads turned; Haruhi, instantly realizing what had happened, was already frantically weaving her way back through the growing throng of people gathered around the two juniors.

"How could you…you…I didn't know you…but you…" Tamaki was at a complete loss for words, apparently, Kyouya observed. That was almost a first.

"You're causing a scene," Kyouya hissed under a—very deceiving—pleasant smile. Tamaki didn't hear him.

"You—and Haruhi—"

"Senpai!" Haruhi had finally reached the pair, and was tugging urgently on Tamaki's sleeve, trying to get his attention. "Senpai, you don't understand—"

By now, Honey and Mori had appeared, looking anxious, and the twins could be seen trying to shove their way to the center.

"You're going to blow someone's cover," Kyouya murmured; Tamaki just stared at him, utterly pale.

"He's right—do you want everyone to find out?" Haruhi said softly, soothingly—as soothingly as she could manage. Everyone else was looking at the Host Club members curiously; they had not quite yet managed to cause a major disturbance, but they had certainly caught the attention of the students closest to them—girls and boys stared at them, wide-eyed. What was this new drama? Some play? Exciting!

"How COULD you?" Tamaki was practically in tears now—very dramatic tears, of course, each crystalline drop welling up perfectly at the corners of his eyes, sparkling down his cheeks. Kyouya repressed a sigh, his mind working very quickly now. How on earth was he going to cover this up? He looked over at Mori, who was waiting patiently at the edge of the circle that was forming around Tamaki; he gave a barely perceptible nod and the senior nodded back just once before he began to move, but it was too late—for once, Kyouya was not able to stop the storm.

"If you really want to marry her, Kyouya, then—I understand," Tamaki said quietly, looking over at his closest friend, his second-in-command. Though his voice was soft and solemn, it didn't matter—the noise level in the entire ballroom had dropped to utter silence as everyone watched this new scene. Kyouya shook his head, started forward in a last attempt to stop the words that he knew were coming—but too late.

"But what about Miho?" Tamaki said, dropping the name as if it were a wine glass, letting it shatter upon the floor, causing stares and gasps. "How could you propose to another girl, when you're already engaged to Miho?"

Kyouya froze, his perfect smile already in place, ignoring the surprise rippling through the gathered students. Though his mind was working furiously, trying to find some way to salvage this situation, he couldn't help but wonder where Miho was. He knew better than to look; appearances were everything. And it would be futile, anyway. He knew.

Somewhere in the back of the crowd, a violet-clad figure fled.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **I haven't disappeared off the face of the planet, I just…just…have no excuse except that graduate school is a bad idea. Don't do it. Really.

At any rate, here's another short chapter, and I'm ready to wrap this up soon (as I've said for the past year…forgive me). The final installment(s) should be coming up shortly. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for all your patience and support. Your comments really make my day, and they always help.

**Chapter Twelve**

"Oh senpai, way to steal our thunder," a voice chided gently. Everyone in the ballroom turned around to see a slender girl in dark purple, standing alone in front of the double doors. Kyouya raised a slender eyebrow. She hadn't run away?

Miho saw the subtle shift in Kyouya's expression and deciphered his thoughts immediately. _Oh, I ran, believe me, _she thought grimly. But as soon as she stepped outside the ballroom her conscience had kicked in, and, muttering soft swear words that she wasn't supposed to know, she sucked in a quick breath and slipped right back in. Luckily, everyone had been so focused on the Host Club that no one even noticed her departure or subsequent return. Now, of course, the entire crowd – including the members of the Host Club – was focused on her. Goody. One of these days she would have to have a long talk with her parents; rich girls weren't supposed to _have_ consciences. Clearly someone involved in her upbringing had failed her.

"I mean, really, Tamaki-senpai—shouldn't a girl be allowed to announce her own engagement?" Miho let just the right note of wistfulness creep into her otherwise serene voice. Tamaki stared at her in shock as realization of what he had just done finally set in. White-faced, he turned shakily to Kyouya, already wincing.

"Kyouya—I—that is—" Tamaki turned back to Miho, a panicked look of deep apology on his face. "Miho, I'm so sorry. Of course I didn't mean—that is, I mean, of course you should have been able to make the announcement. I'm sorry." Tears—perfect, crystalline tears, of course—began to well up in his eyes.

Miho smiled—a genuinely amused smile, Kyouya noted.

"It's all right, senpai," she said with a laugh. "It's probably fitting for Kyouya's best friend to spread the word, wouldn't you agree?"

Tamaki's face lit up in automatic response to Miho's grin.

"Yes!" he enthused, turning to Kyouya with exuberance. "Let me be the first to offer you my congratulations!" And he would've hugged Kyouya—he even reached out to the other boy, but the look in the other boy's eyes stopped him cold.

"Eep." Tamaki turned puppy eyes to Miho in mute appeal. Miho groaned inwardly. She hoped this was not going to become a habit. Kyouya, his expression now unreadable, held out a gloved hand to Miho. Everyone watched as she crossed the room to take his hand; girls in the crowd sighed, half with envy and half simply swooning at witnessing _such_ a romantic gesture—and from Kyouya-senpai!

"Congratulations!" Honey cheered, happily dancing around with Usa-chan. Where had the bunny come from? Miho wondered, watching him for a moment. Oh, never mind. Hikaru and Kaoru quickly jumped in with their congratulations, looking relieved that the "moment" seemed to have blown over without Kyouya biting their heads off. Tamaki was just regaining his composure, a look of silly relief on his face, as other people began to step in and congratulate Kyouya and Miho. The only person who still wore a look of consternation was Haruhi. Between nodding at other students who were offering their blessings, Miho watched the other girl curiously. Haruhi seemed to be working herself up to something; finally she just heaved a sigh and looked at Kyouya, her expression set. She had to clear this up; what if Miho actually thought Kyouya had been proposing to her, trying to get out of his arranged marriage? She would not be held responsible for ruining Kyouya-senpai's marriage—who knew how expensive that would be? Haruhi shuddered at the thought.

"Senpai, thank you," Haruhi piped in loudly. Everyone fell silent again. What other surprises were going to take place tonight?

"Congratulations," Haruhi began again. "And thanks for helping me practice."

Kyouya eyed her with mild curiosity, a faint smile turning the corner of his lips.

"I know you spent all that time helping me perfect my proposal," Haruhi soldiered bravely on, "but I think, senpai, seeing you and Miho…that I need to be more accomplished, like senpai, before I can make my own proposal. I am sorry for taking up your time." She hung her head, appropriately contrite.

The utter silence lasted for precisely one second more before all of the girls burst into excited squeals. Haruhi wanted to propose to someone? EEEEEEK! Who could it be? Oh, so _exciting! _Haruhi was in love! Oh, who was it, who was it?! The girls were all besides themselves with anxious exhilaration, giggling and jumping up and down with glee. Kyouya's smile was real now, and Miho laughed softly. The twins blinked for a moment, temporarily stunned, but Kyouya's smile assured them that all was well, even if they didn't understand any of it, so they started laughing joyously, their raucous laughter punctuated by Honey's cheers. Mori-senpai stood quietly, of course, but that was to be expected.

_Uh-oh_. Suddenly thinking of something, Miho turned around to see Tamaki frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock. The color had drained out of his face; a cold wind whistled by.

"Haruhi…Haruhi's in _love?_" he gasped, so softly that no one else but Miho heard him. "My daughter? Haruhi? Oh! Oh!" The last cry was soft and agonizing. He couldn't take anymore, Miho observed, not without sympathy. Oh dear.

* * *

"Impressive save," Kyouya murmured. The masquerade was over; Miho was waiting for her car, standing a little apart from the rest of the crowd. A few people noticed them standing together, but she supposed now that they had been outed, it didn't really matter—and everyone else kept their distance, apparently giving them some private time alone. _Goody_. She sighed softly and turned to Kyouya.

"Hardly, but I deemed action was required, and I didn't think to let you save the game," Miho replied quietly. "I apologize if my impromptu response threw a wrench in your careful plans."

Kyouya gave an elegant shrug, staring off into the distance.

"It's nothing that was not salvageable," he said. "Your action was well enough to divert the crowd. And you handled Tamaki remarkably."

"Three cheers," Miho said. She was tired, and she didn't want to fence with Kyouya anymore. "Thank you for jumping in so easily—I think we managed to convince everyone that we put up a united front." She paused. "Hopefully your father won't be too upset about the early announcement."

"He understands Tamaki."

Miho didn't have anything to say to that, so she remained silent. Where was her driver? Forcing herself to be polite, she turned back to Kyouya, not wanting to be _too _obvious about her desire to leave him. He wore a faint smile.

"I apologize for putting you on the spot that way," he said. She shrugged.

"It was hardly your fault. I think we all understand Tamaki."

"The situation could still have been avoided, I think," Kyouya said calmly. "Perhaps more frequent communication between us would be prudent."

Miho shrugged. "If you wish."

"To that end, then, I ask if you would be open to a proposal."

Miho raised an eyebrow. "Of what sort?"

Kyouya, wearing an enigmatic smile, bowed slightly.

"Of the 'will you do me the profound honor of agreeing to marry me, please,' sort."

She stared at him. _Was that humor? Shocking._

"There's hardly the need."

Kyouya shrugged again.

"This would be an arrangement between us, not simply between our parents. I always prefer to take care of things myself." He looked at her with those cool gray eyes, and she couldn't quite figure out what he was thinking.

"We can just skip the proposal. What else could my answer be, but yes?" Miho said blandly. "It isn't necessary, anyway. I'll try to make this work between us, regardless."

Kyouya's expression never changed, and his eyes never left hers.

"Yes. But now you know: I'm trying too."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **It appears that I am on a roll. Anyhow, I know I said I would finish up soon, but there should still be a couple more chapters; I'm trying not to chop this off too suddenly and unhappily. Thanks for the comments and for keeping up with me – it's as always, much appreciated. I don't know if the rate of updates will stay consistent; my guess is…probably not. Eek. But it'll get done eventually!

Anyway, here we've returned to more fun with the rest of the Host Club. They are all so goofy.

**Chapter Thirteen**

From their vantage point not far away—in fact, it was rather too _close—_the Host Club members watched the outed couple with great interest.

"They're not _doing_ anything," Tamaki whined. "Where _is _the romance here?" The Host King had only just recovered from his shock; his porcelain face was still far paler than usual.

"Of course they are," Haruhi said. "They're talking."

Tamaki looked at her sadly. "I wish we could have talked more, Haruhi," he lamented. "Then maybe Daddy would have known about this secret love of yours!" He choked back a cry, and the twins rolled their eyes in sync.

"Not again," they complained. "Tono, get over it. We already told you, Haruhi was just trying to cover _your_ blunder. There is no secret love." Hikaru blinked, then poked Haruhi—rather hard. "Is there?" he whispered. Haruhi glared at him.

"No," she hissed. He shrugged.

"_My_ blunder?" Tamaki sputtered indignantly, fortunately missing this little interlude. "Kyouya's the one attempting clandestine affairs—"

"You really might want to keep your voice down, senpai," Haruhi interrupted. "I think we've already had enough excitement for one night—and Kyouya hasn't even said anything to us about what happened yet. I wouldn't give him any more reasons to be angry."

Tamaki's jaw clamped shut with an audible click. Then he changed tactics.

"They're still notdoing anything," he repeated. "There should be romantic kisses, flowery speeches, great big proclamations of love!" He shook his head, a manic look creeping into his sparkling violet eyes. "Now that everyone knows, I don't see what the problem is! Kyouya is clearly holding back. This must be remedied."

"Don't you think you've meddled enough?" Haruhi asked dryly. Tamaki shook his head stubbornly.

"No. Starting from now, we're taking a hand in this. We'll send Miho flowers from Kyouya, we'll invite both of them to lunch without telling them—it'll be the sweetest date! We need to make opportunities for them to be alone together!"

"Ah, Tama-chan," Honey ventured, "don't you think Kyo-chan's the sort of person who makes his own opportunities?" He paused, looking down at Usa-chan. "If he wants them, that is, neh?"

"Well he's not doing an adequate job of it," Tamaki said decisively. "It is our duty to cheer her of the lonely unhappiness she must be suffering."

This time the twins attempted the intercession.

"Ah, Tono, Miho doesn't really seem unhappy."

Tamaki blinked at that. "You think…Kyouya's already making her happy?"

"Ah," they said delicately, "we don't think Kyouya has anything to do with it. She seems perfectly fine with or without him."

"There are some women who don't need men to define themselves and be content," Haruhi muttered under her breath. Naturally, Tamaki didn't hear her.

"But that…that's so wrong! It is our job to please pretty women, and if she is tied to Kyouya through some twist of fate, even more so!" His face took on a determined glow. "Okay. Here is the plan! Tomorrow—"

"If the Shadow King doesn't blow you up first," Hikaru snickered. Tamaki fought down a shudder.

"Tomorrow," he repeated, "we are putting Operation Shadow Queen into action."

"Shadow Queen?" Haruhi echoed. "Miho's hardly sinister."

"Doesn't matter, it's a matter of proximity to Kyouya. Now. What does Miho like?" He looked at Haruhi questioningly. She blinked.

"I don't—" she began, but seeing Tamaki's outraged expression, she tried again. " Um, books? Science? Frozen yogurt? Uh, she's in the calligraphy club and the kendo club. She has one brother, whom she talks about with affection."

"What else, what else?"

"I don't know her life's story, senpai!" Haruhi protested.

"You know who would, though," Kaoru said. He and Hikaru exchanged a wicked smile. "Kyouya-senpai. Why don't you just steal his file, Tono?"

Tamaki blanched. "I don't think we need to attempt that," he said hastily. Then he shook his head. "Why are you all being so difficult? It's not like this is new for us—we've done things like this dozens of times! What about Kasugazaki and Suzushima? Our plan to bring them together worked perfectly!"

"It wasn't quite the same though, Tama-chan, neh?" Honey interjected. "They already loved each other, but Tohru-chan was just shy, yes?" He looked up at Mori for agreement; the taller senior nodded.

"Honey-senpai's right," Hikaru said. "The only problem there was Suzushima's inadequacies—and feelings of inadequacies—and I don't think Kyouya-senpai has ever had quite that problem. Ever." Kaoru nodded his agreement.

"Well what _is _the problem?" Tamaki asked. Haruhi groaned; she knew he was completely serious.

"Sometimes you have two people…and there's no specific, terrible reason…but even though you do everything you can to put them together, they just don't…fall in love."

Tamaki stared blankly at her. "What do you mean?"

Haruhi heaved a sigh. "Never mind."

"So we're going to put this plan in action, right?" Tamaki said, immediately earnest once again. The rest of the Host Club members exchanged a wary look, and sighed in unison.

"Yes."

"Okay. First—" Tamaki broke off, staring back over Haruhi's head, his eyes wide with horror. Haruhi frowned and turned around to see that Miho had left and Kyouya was now walking toward them. His eyes were hidden by the glare in his glasses—never a good sign.

"First—_run!"_ Tamaki said, regaining his voice. The Host Club members fled.

* * *

The next morning at school, Tamaki sat at his desk, filled with dread; Kyouya had not yet arrived. Ten minutes before the bell rang, the other boy walked in, wearing a pleasant smile.

"Morning," Kyouya said as he took his seat. Tamaki eyed him suspiciously.

"Good morning." He waited, but Kyouya simply took out a book and began to read. Emboldened by this, Tamaki straightened up in his chair and cleared his throat. Kyouya continued reading. Frowning slightly, Tamaki tried again.

"A-_hem."_

Kyouya's gray eyes slewed over to the blonde boy sitting next to him.

"Was there something?" he asked coolly. Tamaki beamed at him.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if you were free at lunch? There's something I need to discuss with you."

"And that is?" Kyouya asked, bored.

"I'll tell you at lunch."

Without answering, Kyouya resumed reading. Tamaki rolled his eyes.

"So I'll meet you in the library at lunch, okay?" He took Kyouya's silence as assent, and sat back happily. Excellent.

* * *

Lunch rolled around to find Miho sitting alone, waiting, in a remote corner of the library. She looked at the clock on the far wall, absently playing with the heart-shaped note she had found on her desk that morning. "Miho-hime" was written on it in elegant script—Tamaki's handwriting, as it were. Professing a sudden urge to "converse in the language of my youth," he had asked her to meet him here, ostensibly to have a conversation in French—about Kyouya, she had no doubt. The prospect hadn't really excited her, but Tamaki-senpai always meant well and she did actually enjoy his company, so here she was.

The door opened then, and she looked up to see Kyouya walk in. When he saw her, he didn't stop, but continued on until he stood in front of her. A knowing smile crossed her lips; Kyouya wore its mirror image.

"Tamaki," they said together. There was a muffled cheer from behind a shelf and then a blonde head appeared, grinning broadly.

"Yes?" Tamaki answered, and then stopped, the realization that he was _supposed_ to be hiding and secretly observing the happy couple, hitting him too late.

"Erm. I mean. What a coincidence to see you both here!"

"Hardly," Kyouya murmured. He looked at Miho. "I assume you are both here to engage in a lively conversation in fluent French. I'll leave you to it, then." He turned to leave.

"Kyouya, no! You must stay! I'll go."

The other boy regarded him calmly.

"I can't abide the language, so it doesn't make any sense for me to remain and converse in French."

"You don't like French?" Miho asked mildly. She smiled faintly. "What, too cliché?"

"No," Kyouya replied. "Too Tamaki."

Tamaki pouted; Miho laughed.

"Well, _I _don't want to interrupt whatever business you two boys have to discuss, since I assume that's the request Tamaki-senpai put to you," she told Kyouya. "So I think I'll leave. We'll meet again some other time, senpai," she told Tamaki. And then, before Tamaki could stop her, she was out the door. The Host king watched her go in consternation.

"Well," Kyouya said. "Presumably you called me here under false pretenses, but I think we _do _have something to discuss, now." His voice was calm, even and amused; Tamaki paled in fright.

"Actually, I don't really have anything to say, now that I think about it," Tamaki said, attempting a broad smile. "So if it's all the same to you—"

"It really isn't," Kyouya said. "Sit, Tamaki. We are going to have a talk."

Tamaki sighed.

* * *

After the failure of the first plan, the Host Club members lost no time in putting the second plan into effect. Which is why, when Miho was getting ready for Kendo club after school, she entered the empty dojo to find two masked figures waiting for her. They appeared to be boys, one tall and the other very short. Both wore ski masks over their faces, and were dressed in black gi and hakamas.

"Don't move," the smaller one said. "We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to."

Miho stood where she was, torn between confusion, amusement, and irritation. The smaller "thug" took a step forward, his shoulders dropping in concern as he peered at her through the holes in his mask. Then to her surprise, he peeled back half of his mask to smile at her.

"Well, we won't really hurt you, of course, Mi-chan, so don't worry, okay?" Honey said, his childish face lit up with a reassuring smile. Miho smiled back.

"I…see. Is there a problem, Honey-senpai?" she asked. "Did I do something to anger you or Mori-senpai?"

Honey had replaced his mask, but shook his head.

"No, of course not Mi-chan. We're here to scare you so that Kyouya will save you!"

Miho groaned inwardly. Of course.

"I see. How is Kyouya-senpai supposed to save me? I don't think he'd have any reason to be around here."

"You're supposed to call him and ask him," Honey said helpfully. "Don't you have his phone number? Here, I'll give it to you!" He fished in his hakama for a cute little pink phone with a bunny keychain, and read the phone number off to a resigned Miho.

"Thanks," she said. "Okay. Here goes." Reluctantly, she pressed "call," and listened to the dial tone, half-hoping Kyouya wouldn't answer.

"Hello?"

Miho sighed. "Hello? Kyouya-senpai? It's Miho. Yes. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering, if you weren't busy, if you could, ah, save me."

There was a brief pause on the other end.

"Save you?" Kyouya repeated calmly.

"Yes." Miho tried her hardest not to feel completely stupid. It wasn't really working. "I'm in the dojo, and there are two…"

"Thugs," Honey whispered.

"…thugs here, threatening me," Miho finished. "Normally I could take care of this myself, but…" she trailed off, not knowing exactly what she could say. Assuming Kyouya understood the situation, he would realize that she wasn't just being a ridiculous damsel in distress. Of course, there was no reason to make that assumption. Maybe she should just—

"Thugs," Kyouya repeated. "I see. I believe I can handle it. Give me a second, please. Tamaki's on the other side of the room." There was a brief pause—Miho assumed Kyouya had put her on hold—and then Honey's phone began to ring. The little senior blinked in surprise before answering.

"Yes, Tama-chan? Oh! You sound awful! What happened?" Honey fell silent, listening for a while. "Oh I see. Okay. We'll stop now. Miho's fine. Okay Tama-chan. Feel better, yes?" he hung up and pulled off his ski mask, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Phew. Okay, we're not thugs anymore, Mi-chan. Which is good…I don't really think I can do that." He looked at Miho with concern. "You weren't really scared, were you? We're sorry!" The little senior looked so worried that Miho just had to smile. She knelt down to give Honey a hug.

"Oh no, I'm fine, Honey-senpai. Don't worry."

Honey smiled back, relieved. "Okay." He tugged on Mori's hand. "Let's go, Takashi. We should probably let your club members start practice now."

Mori nodded. As the two turned to leave, Honey stopped and looked over his shoulder at Miho.

"Mi-chan, fall in love with Kyou-chan, yes? He will take care of you—he takes care of everyone!" Beaming, Honey bounced out of the dojo. Miho sighed. Well, that was three down, she thought wryly. If she could avoid Haruhi and the twins for the rest of the day, she'd be set. Unfortunately, chances of that were unlikely. Shaking her head, she went to change. Suddenly, she really felt like beating something up.


End file.
